


The Wedding Planner

by Goddess47



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Harlequin, M/M, More characters coming - Freeform, Steter Week 2020, teen wolf bingo, trope bingo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25593475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goddess47/pseuds/Goddess47
Summary: Billionaire Peter Hales’s bride to be left him standing at the altar and wedding planner Stiles Stilinski was dumbfounded when he was asked to fill in. Be Peter’s 'bride.' For a year. What better was to escape his situation than by marrying a gorgeous, powerful stranger?
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 153
Kudos: 723
Collections: Steter Week 2020, Teen Wolf Bingo





	1. The Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> While there should be more of this, no guarantee when it will happen. Sorry!
> 
> For Steter Week: Harlequin
> 
> For Teen Wolf Bingo: Harlequin (how convenient was that?)
> 
> For Trope Bingo: Indecent Proposal

"You want me to do _what_?" Stiles was dumbstruck.

"Marry me," Peter Hale repeated himself patiently. "Everything's set up. All that's missing is someone for me to marry."

"But..."

Hale sighed. "Marrying Lydia was nothing but a business arrangement," he explained. "There are... reasons I need a spouse and it makes no difference to me whether it's her or you."

Stiles frowned. This is not what he signed up for. "Reasons?"

"There are inheritances and family responsibilities I can take over, once I'm married," Hale admitted. "And I'm tired of being chased by anyone who thinks they can benefit from marrying me."

"And why do you think I'm an acceptable candidate?" Stiles asked, crossing his arms.

"I don't," Hale said flatly. He tilted his head as if he was listening to something. "But you're here right now, and the fact that you're not saying 'yes' immediately is actually in your favor. Most people would jump at a chance to have access to me, much less get married." 

He looked up and down Stiles.Lydia had actually picked out the suit Stiles was wearing -- and charged it to Hale's account, over Stiles' protest -- and it was much nicer than anything he owned, so Stiles knew he was looking good today. "You're presentable and clean up well."

Stiles hummed to himself. He tried not to be insulted. "What do I have to do?"

"I need to be married for a full calendar year," Hale replied. "Although an extra week would be helpful, just so no one can argue with me about the time element. I'll support you fully as my spouse, money isn't an object. You have to work hard to spend too much money, but I'd like a head's up on anything more than half a million dollars. Sex isn't required, but it's not off the table. You do need to be faithful, and I will do the same."

"I..." Stiles didn't know what he wanted. "I need five minutes."

"I can do that," Hale agreed.

"You're secure here," Stiles said, looking around the Groom's Suite. "No one should disturb you and I can... I can use the Bride's Suite next door."

"Fine," Hale nodded. 

"Be right back," Stiles said, backing out of the door.

He went next door to the Bride's Suite, knowing it would be empty. Once secure in the Bride's Suite, Stiles paced. Lydia Martin had been a 'friend of a friend' who had hired him to help arrange her wedding to billionaire Peter Hale. Stiles knew this would be the opportunity he needed to elevate his wedding planning business to the next level. And he could use the money Hale was offering -- pay off at least some of his college loans and maybe put something toward paying off his dad's house. 

Lydia had actually been the perfect customer, which was a relief after some of the bridezillas he had worked with. She knew what she wanted, she made decisions without argument, and she had excellent taste. The small but elegant wedding was the talk of the town. Or, rather, it would have been.

Then, Lydia's ex-boyfriend Jackson Whittemore had swanned back into town and assumedly groveled enough to get Lydia to take him back. That morning. Lydia had left Stiles a brief voice message -- _I'm calling off the wedding. Peter will make sure you're properly paid._

Stiles hoped Lydia at least talked directly to Hale, rather than simply leaving him a message.

Stiles sighed. He was running out of time and needed to make a decision.

_Oh, fuck it._

Stiles went back to the Groom's Suite and let himself in. Hale was sitting back in a lounge chair. Stiles looked Hale over and, beyond the facade of powerful ease, there might have been a thread of worry. 

Hale looked back at Stiles. "Well?"

"I'll do it," Stiles said. "I'd like a... pre-nup, I guess."

"We don't have time for lawyers," Hale protested.

"I don't need fancy," Stiles replied. He picked up the clip board he had been using to take notes and found a blank sheet of paper. He wrote up the basic outline of what Hale had offered before.

_Stiles Stilinski will marry Peter Hale under the following conditions:_

_\--the marriage is to last for one calendar year plus one week_   
_\--both parties are to live together, whenever reasonable_   
_\--Peter Hale will provide an allowance of $20,000 per month to Stiles Stilinski_   
_\--socially acceptable physical contact is allowed between both parties; intimate contact may be allowed upon discussion between both parties and full consent between both parties_   
_\--both parties are to be faithful to each other during the length of the marriage_

_Further terms may be negotiated as needed._

"Look okay?" Stiles handed Hale the clipboard.

"Not bad," Hale said, taking the pen from Stiles. "One change," he said as he made it. He handed the clip board back to Stiles.

Stiles stared. The $20,000 figure had been changed to $250,000. 

"I don't need that," Stiles protested. 

"Further reason why I'm asking you to marry me," Hale said. "You're undervaluing yourself."

"Just looking to take care of my bills," Stiles protested. 

"I'll pay the bills and give you a credit card for most expenses," Hale replied. "That money is for you to do with as you wish."

Stiles hesitated. It would be enough money to pay off his student loans, his dad's house, _and_ give him a nest egg to do what he wanted at the end of the year.

"What kind of a name is 'Stiles'?" Hale asked, looking up from the page in front of him.

"My real name is a nightmare," Stiles admitted. "When I was born, my mom insisted I have her father's very Polish name and my dad went along with it. I'll sign this using it, but Stiles is who I am."

"That's reasonable," Hale agreed. "Anything else?"

"Not that I can think of," Stiles replied. He signed the bottom of the page and handed the clipboard to Hale, who also signed the document with a brief glance at Stiles' legal name.

"Is the marriage license going to be valid?" Hale asked.

"Let me make a call," Stiles said. "I can get that fixed." He looked at his watch. "Going to take about half an hour, though."

Hale waved a hand. "I have nowhere else to be right now," he said. "Do what you have to."

Stiles dialed the city records office.

"Erica? I need a hu-u-u-u-g-e favor," he begged.

"Stiles! Now what?" she laughed.

"Ummm... remember I pulled a wedding license for Lydia Martin and Peter Hale?" Stiles asked.

"Yes! Isn't that today?" Erica asked.

"It was supposed to be, but, well, Lydia's gone and now I'm going to marry Hale," Stiles said.

Silence.

"Excuse me?" Erica finally asked.

"Long story, I promise to tell you later, but I need a license that has my name and Hale's name on it couriered over to me as soon as possible," Stiles said. "We can find someone here to notarize it for us."

"Oh, this I have to see," Erica said. "I'll come myself and notarize it for you."

"That works!" Stiles agreed. "You can be my best person while you're at it!"

"You need another person as a witness," Erica pointed out with a small pout. "I can't notarize it and be a witness."

"There are people here who will jump at being a witness," Stiles replied. "Just get here as soon as you can?"

"Will do!" Erica promised.

Stiles hung up and turned to Hale. "Taken care of. My friend Erica will be here with a new license as soon as she can," he explained. "What do we tell everyone else?" He waved a hand toward where the guests were waiting.

"Tell them there are technical difficulties and open the bar," Hale said. "That will appease anyone. Only my nephew is family, the rest are there to ensure I have enough witnesses to the marriage."

"We need two witnesses for the license," Stiles said. "Who were you going to have for that?"

"I don't know who Lydia had selected, but I know my nephew Derek is here," Hale shrugged. "See if he has a date."

"That will work," Stiles nodded. "Okay, I'll be right back."

Hale nodded.

Stiles hurried to find the catering staff first. "Listen, we've hit a snag and have to push the ceremony back almost an hour," he begged. "Any chance we can open the bar now?"

"Now and after the ceremony?" the woman asked. "It'll cost extra."

"Not a problem," Stiles nodded. "You know Hale is good for it, just add it to the bill."

"I'll get the bartenders going," she said. "You want any food served?"

"Probably should have something," Stiles realized. "Whatever is ready now is fine. Not the cake, but how about the cookies?"

"Sure," she agreed. 

"Oh! The cake!" Stiles realized. "Take off the topper, we'll do without it. Smooth whatever around so it looks good." 

The male and female couple on top of the cake would now be inappropriate.

"Whatever," the woman nodded.

"And put out the coffee service, if it's ready," Stiles said. Some folk might want that instead.

"You got it," she agreed.

Stiles tried to think. There wasn't going to be a meal after the ceremony, only some finger food and a cake, so there weren't a lot of choices. That would have to do for now. "Thanks!" 

Stiles went to the meeting room where the ceremony and the reception immediately afterward was going to be held and took a deep breath before he opened the door to step in.

"May I have your attention?" he called. He waited for the conversations to die. "We've had a slight change of plans and some technical difficulties. The ceremony will go on, but will be pushed back about an hour, maybe less. We'll be opening the bar in a minute and providing some coffee and food while you wait. We're sorry for the inconvenience and appreciate your patience."

A murmur of voices. Stiles could hear the questioning that started, wondering what was going on. Fortunately, the bartenders appeared at that point and the majority of the crowd moved toward the bar.

As he was about to slip out, two of the guests approached him, followed by the officiant Stiles had hired.

"What's going on?" A dark haired, frowning man demanded.

"And you are?" Stiles asked politely.

"Derek Hale," he replied. "Peter's my uncle."

"Oh, right, he mentioned you," Stiles replied. He nodded to the striking black woman who stood next to him. "Are you with Mr. Derek Hale?"

"Braeden Marshall," she held out a hand as she introduced herself. "Don't mind grumpy here, it's his default setting."

"I think Mr. Hale would be willing to talk to you all privately," Stiles decided. "If you'd come with me?"

Stiles led them to the Groom's Suite. "Please give me a moment to make sure Mr. Hale doesn't mind being interrupted." 

Hale was still sitting in the lounge chair. "That's my nephew," he said before Stiles could explain. "Let him in."

"He has his date with him," Stiles said. "And we need to update the officiant."

"Yes. That's not a problem," Hale nodded.

Stiles opened the door. "Please, come in," Stiles said. They moved into the room and Stiles was about to leave and shut the door when Hale held up a hand.

"No, you need to stay for this," Hale said.

"What's going on?" Derek Hale asked.

"Well, it seems that my lovely bride-to-be Lydia has had a change of heart and has left me at the altar," Peter Hale explained. "Since I need to be married soon, Stiles has agreed to marry me."

Derek Hale turned to stare. 

Stiles waved.

Derek Hale turned back to his uncle. "Are you sure about him?"

"Hey! Right here!" Stiles protested. 

Peter Hale gave a fleeting grin. "You know perfectly well that my marriage to Lydia was a business arrangement," Peter said firmly. "There's nothing to say that my spouse has to be female. Stiles is here, he's willing, and, most interestingly, I had to talk him into it."

Derek turned to stare at Stiles. The officiant rolled his eyes.

"What?" Stiles demanded, holding up his hands. "Sue me, I'm a romantic."

Derek stared some more and then looked at Peter. "He's not lying."

Peter shrugged. "That's why he's perfect!"

"Still here!" Stiles chimed in.

"Yes, sweetheart, I know," Peter assured him.

Stiles' phone buzzed in his pocket. He got it out and looked at the screen. "Sorry, Erica is here with the new marriage license. That was fast. Let me go get her." He looked around. "Are you both willing to be witnesses?"

Derek Hale nodded briefly.

Braeden said with a grin, "I'd be honored!"

"You'll both need to stay after the ceremony to sign the form then," Stiles pointed out. "Be right back."

Stiles didn't wait for an answer and went to the security checkpoint to get Erica. He found her with her boyfriend Boyd, waiting patiently at the door.

"They're with me," Stiles told the security guard. "Thank you!"

"Stiles!" Erica whispered as they hurried down the hall. "What the fuck?"

"You can't tell anyone," Stiles ushered the two into the Bride's Suite and closed the door. He looked at Boyd. "Either one of you."

"Cross my heart and hope to die." Erica made an exaggerated cross over her heart.

Boyd just nodded.

"The original marriage with Lydia Martin was a business arrangement," Stiles said.

Erica's eyes narrowed. "And...:

"Lydia's gone and I'm going to marry Peter Hale for a year," Stiles said baldly.

"What the fuck?" Erica demanded.

"Look," Stiles begged. "It's only for a year, he's going to support me during it and pay me an obscene amount of money and... and... and he's promised to be faithful during the time we're married." He paused for a moment. "Oh, and we don't have to have sex unless I want."

"Stiles!" Erica protested. 

"Erica!" Stiles echoed.

Erica threw up her hands and asked, "So, what are you going to do?"

"Marry him," Stiles said firmly.

Boyd put a hand on Erica's shoulder to stop her from asking anything else.

"Do you want to marry him?" Boyd asked.

"Yes?" Stiles replied.

"Then do it," Boyd said.

"Thanks," Stiles said. "Hey! Be a witness on the license for me?"

Boyd shrugged and nodded.

"Okay, then!" Stiles clapped his hands together. "Erica? Got the new license?"

"Yes," Erica nodded, holding up her handbag. "Right here."

"Let's get this started," Stiles said. "Everyone's next door. Come on."

Stiles led them to the room next door.

"Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, please meet Braeden Marshall, Derek Hale and, of course, Peter Hale," Stiles performed the introductions. "This is our officiant, Alan Deaton."

Peter Hale stood and came over to them. He took Erica's hand.

"Ms. Reyes," Peter purred. "Thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to help us out. I do hope it was not too much of an inconvenience." He brought her hand up and dropped a small kiss on the back of it.

Erica blushed. "Always glad to help Stiles."

"What do you need us to do?" Peter asked.

"The two of you will sign the certificate now, and I'll notarize your signatures," Erica said. "Then after the ceremony, the witnesses will sign and I'll notarize those signatures."

"Can you still be my best person?" Stiles asked. 

"Sure, since that's mostly ceremonial," she nodded.

Stiles turned to Braeden. "Sorry, but I didn't know Boyd was coming. Would you mind awfully if he was my witness instead?"

Braeden waved him away. "Not a problem!"

Erica turned to Derek. "And you'll be Mr. Hale's witness?"

"Too many _Mr. Hale's_ ," Derek said gruffly. "Call me Derek."

"Thank you!" Erica smiled. "Derek, will you be Peter Hale's witness?"

Derek nodded.

Peter clapped his hands. "Okay, I think we're all set!"

"Wait! What do we tell your guests?" Stiles asked.

Peter gave a bitter laugh. "Nothing," he declared. "The only people who need to know anything are in this room. It's our business and none of theirs. If they ask questions, you don't have to tell them anything."

"Tell them it was all Peter's idea," Derek offered with a sly grin. "No one will ask any more than that."

"O-o-o-kay..." Stiles drawled.

"It will be fine," Peter assured him.

"Let me go and close down the bar, and alert the caterers and the guests we're about ready," Stiles said. "That should take like ten minutes. Then we can get started."

"Do you need any help?" Erica offered.

"Don't think so," Stiles decided. "I'll let you know."

Stiles started with the guests, knowing that getting everyone away from the bar would be the hard part. He then went back to the catering lead and let her know they would be starting as soon as everyone was seated. 

Back in the Groom's Suite, Stiles thought for a moment. "Okay. Mr. Deaton, you can go to the front of the room. Derek can escort Erica up the aisle and Peter and I can escort each other?"

"That sounds reasonable," Peter agreed. "Did you have music selected?"

"A selection from Handel's _Water Music_ ," Stiles replied. "It should work well enough."

"That sounds like a lovely piece. Better than I expected, actually," Peter replied. 

Stiles grinned to himself. He had talked Lydia into that music.

Peter looked around at the others in the room. "Are we all set?"

They nodded. 

Deaton moved to the front and waited for them. Stiles started the music from his phone and nodded to Erica and Derek to start up the aisle. Since it was a small room, he and Peter waited for them to position themselves at the front.

"Last chance to back out," Peter said softly.

"Nope," Stiles replied. "I'll keep my word."

"Good!" Peter grinned. He held out his arm and Stiles put his hand inside Peter's elbow.

They walked up the aisle together, to muted whispers from the guests. Stiles worked hard to concentrate on the man next to him and ignore anything being said.

Since Stiles had worked with Lydia on the ceremony, he already knew what was coming. He focused on Peter while he gave his vows, and listened as Peter gave his. 

He was startled, somehow, when Deaton said, "I know pronounce you married. You may kiss your husband."

Peter leaned in for a kiss. It was soft, warm and everything Stiles would ever had hoped for. Peter put his arms around Stiles and deepened the kiss. It was magic!

When Peter raised his head, Stiles saw a look of happy surprise in Peter's eyes.

_What have I done?_ Stiles thought in a panic.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging around... again, updates will be irregular... as the muse and time allows!
> 
> Enjoy!

The small audience applauded as Stiles and Peter broke their kiss and faced them. They held still for a moment, so the photographer could get a good shot of them. 

"Thank you for joining us today, and for your patience," Peter announced. "Please enjoy yourselves."

The catering staff immediately brought out more food and the bar re-opened. 

Erica swept Stiles up in a hug. "That was hot!" she whispered into his ear.

Stiles blushed. 

"Okay, small bit of business," Erica said to Peter and Stiles. "Signatures needed from yourselves and from your official witnesses."

"We can use the Groom's Suite for this," Stiles told her. "Easier to work there and that will let the caterers bring out the cake."

"Who knew you'd have to arrange your own wedding?" Erica teased.

Stiles looked around. "Derek, Boyd, we need to get your signatures on the license," he said. "We'll use the Groom's suite." He looked at Braeden. "You're welcome to join us."

"Oh, I'm going to hang out here for a minute," she grinned. "I can't wait to listen in on the gossip."

Derek rolled his eyes.

The photographer followed them to the room and took several pictures. He posed Stiles and Peter to take some pictures of just them. Then he got Erica and Derek to join in as part of the wedding party.

Erica quickly took care of the formalities for them and presented Stiles with one of the copies of the signed form. She kept a copy to put into the official files and took a picture with her camera to have an electronic copy for the official records.

Stiles turned and handed it to Peter. "I suspect you need this for your other... purposes," he said.

"I do," Peter nodded. "Thank you!"

"There should be cake!" Erica said enthusiastically.

"If you all would give me and Stiles a moment alone, I'd appreciate it," Peter said.

Erica grinned and grabbed Boyd's hand. Derek gave his uncle a look and closed the door behind them.

Peter took Stiles hand. "First of all, thank you for doing this," Peter said. 

Stiles shifted uncomfortably. "Well, it seemed like a sensible thing at the time."

Peter laughed, then got serious. "I am not known to be a nice person. You will hear things about me that will not be true. All I can do is ask you to come to me with anything that you need to know. There are some secrets I must keep, but I will not deceive you deliberately."

"We all have secrets," Stiles agreed. 

Peter gave a wry grin. "I will remind you of that, some day. When anyone asks you questions, about anything, don't hesitate to refer them to me. And I'll have my PR and security people meet with you, so that you have contacts if you can't reach me."

"I've met a couple of them, working with Lydia," Stiles admitted. 

"Oh, you've only scratched the surface," Peter replied. "Now, I think I was promised cake?"

"Before we do that," Stiles said. "Give me a kiss."

Stiles could see the pleased surprise in Peter's eyes as they moved together. The kiss was soft, gentle... but it promised more.

Stiles smiled at Peter. "Now we can have that cake!"

Peter stayed by Stiles' side during the reception. Peter introduced Stiles to everyone and put off any business discussions. He made sure Stiles had a flute of champagne and steered him toward the cake.

Peter held up his glass to get the attention of the room. 

"Stiles, I know we may have had an unconventional beginning, but I do want to express my appreciation to you. We're off to a good start and I'm hoping for many years to come!" He raised his glass in Stiles' direction.

Stiles tapped his glass against Peter's. "Thank you! And here's to a good life together!"

They sipped their champagne as the ladies in the audience went _awww!_

Stiles ignored the camera.

"And I've been promised cake!" Peter called.

They moved over to the huge cake, larger than the guests could reasonably eat. It had been something Lydia had insisted on, although Stiles had -- gently -- fought against it. The caterer was there with a knife and napkins.

She held out the knife. "Traditionally, you make the first cut together." She pointed to a middle tier. "If you cut here, you can easily get a clean slice out."

Peter took the knife and held out his hand so Stiles could put his hand over his. Stiles made note that Peter had warm hands as they made the first slice. Peter guided them to make a second slice. 

Stiles removed his hand as Peter eased out the slice and put it on a napkin. He broke off a piece and held it out to Stiles. Stiles took it and grinned. "It's good!"

Stiles reached over and took a bit and held it out to Peter. Peter ran his tongue along Stiles' fingers before taking the cake from him. Stiles shivered in pleasure and saw that Peter knew exactly what he had done.

"You're a menace!" Stiles said softly.

"Can't blame a man for trying," Peter replied with a grin.

Another small round of applause made them step back. 

The caterer stepped up with a helper and a stack of plates.

"We'll save the top tier for you," she told Stiles. "But there will be a lot leftover. What do you want me to do with it?"

Stiles looked at Peter, who shrugged. "How about you share it with the staff? I would hope they'd appreciate a treat?" Stiles suggested.

"Since we're handling this for you, I can do that," she replied. "Some of the food handling rules are stupid, but I can do that without having to waste it."

"Perfect!" Stiles said. "And I'll take another piece. It really is good!"

The photographer circulated and took candids of those in attendance. Knowing what he now knew, Stiles guessed it was also part of Peter's 'evidence' that he had really gotten married. Having multiple witnesses would make it harder to argue that the wedding never happened.

After another hour of Peter guiding Stiles about the room to chat with the guests, Stiles said, "Okay, we have another half an hour before our time is up. We need to start shutting this down."

"Do you need to be here for any of that?" Peter asked.

"No, the staff should be able to take care of everything," Stiles said.

"If we leave, that should break up most of it," Peter replied. 

"True," Stiles agreed.

Peter tapped a glass for attention. "Our thanks to everyone who came today," he said. "The bar will be open for one last round of drinks but Stiles and I will be taking our leave."

"Thank you all for coming!" Stiles added. He saw Erica grin and give him a thumbs' up.

"Do you have anything you need to get?" Peter asked.

"I have my briefcase in the Bride's Suite," Stiles said. "Everything is in that."

They grabbed the briefcase and Stiles made a quick survey of both Suites, just to make sure he didn't miss anything. 

They exited the building and Stiles realized Peter must have called for his car, since there was a limo waiting for them.

Once in the car, Peter sat back and looked at Stiles. "You did very well," he said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," was all Stiles could think to say.

"I thought we'd go back to my home," Peter said. "I can set you up in one of the guest rooms and, well, we can go forward from there."

"I need to get some clothes," Stiles said. "Can we swing by my apartment first? That way I can pack a bag for tonight and I can get the rest of my things over the next few days."

"I'll pay movers to handle most of your belongings," Peter said. 

"You don't have to..." Stiles started.

"Sweetheart, you can't have that many things, and it's simpler for me to help you take care of it," Peter said.

Stiles knew it would be incredibly easier, so it was a no-brainer to give in. "Thank you."

"Where do you live?" Peter asked. When Stiles gave him the address, he instructed the limo driver to go there.

Peter peered at the building.

"Kind of..." Peter started.

"Yeah, sketchy," Stiles finished for him. "Just getting started, so it's a single room. It was advertised as a 'studio apartment' but it's one room with an illusion of a kitchen. And I'm lucky I have a private bathroom, since some of the other singles have to share."

Peter made a moue of distaste.

"Come up and see how the other half lives," Stiles invited. "Oh, and it's a walk-up and I'm on the third floor."

"For that, I'll wait," Peter said with a frown. 

Stiles laughed. "Umm... do we have plans or anything? Just so I bring the right clothes, is all."

"No, no plans," Peter replied. "We'll have dinner in tonight, that's already ordered. I have meetings tomorrow and didn't make any plans. So we can do whatever you'd like."

"Good to know. Be right back," Stiles said. He dug his keys out of the briefcase and got out of the car.

It didn't take long for Stiles to pack what he needed for the night and tomorrow in a duffle bag -- he didn't have room to store 'real' luggage and the folding bags were the best option. He took some clothes and packed up his laptop. He made sure he had the charger for his phone and then looked around. 

There really wouldn't be a lot to take, since most of the furniture had come with the apartment. He had bought the mini-fridge, mostly because the existing mini-fridge didn't work properly and the landlord was fighting him on replacing it. The next person could deal with it. He's come out of this with enough money to get a better place when he needed one.

Stiles took one last look around to make sure he had everything he would need until tomorrow. He suspected Peter would have anything he might miss, but he wanted to start out on a -- somewhat -- equal footing.

He locked the door and went back to the car. The trunk opened as he approached, so he put his things in the trunk and closed the lid.

"What apartment is that?" Peter asked.

"314," Stiles said.

Peter tapped on his phone. "The movers will meet you here day after tomorrow at ten, to take whatever you need to take. If that works for you."

"It won't be much," Stiles admitted. "Mostly my personal things, since the furniture came with the apartment. But I'll appreciate the time to pack my own things."

"No problem," Peter replied.

They drove for another thirty minutes before the limo pulled up to a row of brownstones.

Stiles looked out the window. "Huh, figured you for some fancy Fifth Avenue apartment," he said.

"I have one of those, too," Peter said easily. "But that's mostly for show or when I have to throw a party. This is where I really live."

They got out of the car and went up to the door. "I'll get you keys, probably tomorrow," Peter said. "It's on a key card, so if you lose it, let me or the security people know so they can deal with it."

"Reasonable," Stiles said. 

They went into the lobby and Stiles was amazed at the instant warm, homey feeling. It was clean and airy, but the furniture was obviously old and well loved. As they passed through the rooms -- living room, den, downstairs bath, kitchen -- the walls were pastels that complimented the decor. 

Bedrooms were on the second floor. "Lydia redecorated one of the bedrooms for herself," Peter said. "You can have that if you want, but there are two other rooms you can choose from."

"Yeah, no," Stiles laughed. "I'm going to guess Lydia redecorated within an inch of her life. One of the other rooms is fine."

Peter opened a door. "This one is next to mine, but it has its own bathroom," he said. 

"For that alone, it will do," Stiles said. He stepped into the room. The walls were creme and the curtains and bed coverings were a deep burgundy. It was tasteful and looked comfortable. 

"Feel free to redecorate, if you want," Peter offered. "There's furniture in the basement, and I have a warehouse that has even more. Or you can buy whatever. So if you want anything else, just ask."

"There's a bed and a desk," Stiles said. "That's what I need for now."

"If you want working space, that's on the third floor," Peter said. 

Stiles followed Peter up to a huge, open office area. Peter pointed off to one side. "There's a spare desk over there," he said. "I'll get you the internet connection information and there are printers and other peripherals available. Again, anything you need, just ask."

"Umm... I have some commitments," Stiles said. "I'm already working on six more weddings over the next three months."

"Do what you want," Peter said. "If you want to do them, go ahead. If not, we can find someone to take them over for you."

"The first one is all but done," Stiles said. "The wedding is this weekend and, unless you had other plans, I'd like to see that one through for sure."

"Whatever you think best," Peter assured him. "There will be a number of things I will need to ask you to attend with me, but other than that, your time will be your own. We can go through the calendar tomorrow, if that works for you."

"Sounds more than reasonable," Stiles replied. 

Just then, Stiles' phone rang. It was his dad's ring tone.

"Gotta get this, it's my dad," Stiles said. Before he realized what he just said.

_Oh, my god! What do I tell dad?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said. Irregular updates... and I can't believe it took me 8k words to get to the end of the first day! I should think about adding a 'slow burn' tag... ::grin:: We'll see how the next section, or two, goes for that. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone that's following along!

Stiles answered the phone. "Hey, Daddio! What's up?" He cringed.

A sigh. "Now what have you done?" John asked.

Stiles knew his dad couldn't see the blush. "But, why would you think I've done anything?" he asked, going for innocent but not really succeeding.

"Stiles!" John said.

"Okay, well, I might have gotten married this afternoon," Stiles stuttered.

Silence.

Another sigh.

"Is she pregnant?" John asked patiently.

Stiles heard Peter give a small laugh. Fucker.

"No, _he_ is not," Stiles shot back with a grin. Wait. How did Peter hear that?

"Well, okay, then," John said. "Maybe you should tell me more about it?"

"You remember I was working on this wedding for Lydia Martin?" Stiles asked.

"Yes," John replied. "You couldn't tell me who, because he's some big celebrity."

"That's the one!" Stiles said. "Well, Lydia's ex boyfriend blew into town and convinced her to run off with him, essentially leaving Peter at the altar."

"And you just had to take her place?" John asked.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time?" Stiles more asked than answered.

"Details, Stiles," John said firmly. 

"His name is Peter Hale," Stiles said. 

"Only you!" John said. Stiles knew he recognized the name.

"I know!" Stiles said. "We made a pre-nup. He needs to be married for a year so I've agreed to do that. He's already in the process of moving me out of that apartment you know you didn't like, and he's going to give me a ridiculous amount of money besides."

"What about..." John danced about the issue.

"No sex without a clear discussion," Stiles said. "Safe, sane, and consensual."

"That's... reasonable," John allowed. 

Peter broke in. "If I may?" He held out a hand.

"Sheriff John Stilinski, meet Peter Hale," Stiles introduced them and he handed Peter the phone.

 _Sheriff?_ Peter mouthed. Stiles nodded, grinning.

"Sir," Peter said. "John. Please, I'm Peter." Peter nodded. "I will take good care of your son and certainly will respect his boundaries. He's doing me an immense favor and I'm willing to show my appreciation for that."

Peter grinned at whatever he was listening to. "I appreciate that," Peter said. "Yes, we will come to visit as soon as my schedule permits. Stiles can go to visit you any time he wants, although I will need him here for some events I am required to attend."

More nodding and a small laugh. Now Stiles was curious. What the heck was his dad telling Peter.

"Please, feel free to check me out," Peter agreed. "I would probably do the same." More nodding. "Good talking to you." Peter handed the phone back to Stiles.

"Hey! No embarrassing stories!" Stiles protested. "He doesn't even know me yet!"

"My point exactly," John said. "If you need anything, you call. Even just to talk."

"Yes, I will," Stiles promised. 

"And, well, congratulations," John said softly. "I hope he makes you happy."

"Thanks," Stiles said. "I hope so, too."

"Text me daily for the next few days?" It was more than a demand than a request.

"Will do," Stiles replied. He knew that would make his dad feel better, that Stiles would reach out daily. "Talk to you soon!"

When he hung up, Peter said, "Well, I can honestly say that's the first time I got a shovel talk."

Stiles laughed. "And my dad knows how to bury bodies so no one would ever find them," he said.

"Somehow, I don't doubt that," Peter replied. 

"So, now what?" Stiles asked.

"I'd like to take a shower and change into something more comfortable," Peter admitted.

"What? You don't live in a tux 24/7?" Stiles teased. "And that sounds like a good idea. You said something about dinner in?"

"I figured dinner about eight," Peter said. "I had ordered steaks and seafood for tonight, to give Lydia a choice."

"That works for me," Stiles said. "I'm pretty omnivorous and I don't have any food allergies."

"Good to know," Peter said. "I'm more partial to protein than carbs, but I also have no allergies. There are some things I don't like, but that's a preference and not a requirement."

Stiles grinned. "My favorite food is curly fries, although the wedding business has expanded my palate. It's fascinating what kinds of food people want to serve at a wedding."

"I can only imagine," Peter said. "Come down to the den when you're ready."

"Okay, I'll see you in a bit," Stiles said as they went back down to their rooms on the second floor.

Once in his room, Stiles took a moment to check out what was there. Someone he hadn't seen had already put his bags on the desk.

He was glad to see a lock on the door, not that it would really keep anyone out -- he had learned to pick locks like these in grade school. He bounced on the king-sized bed and decided it should be okay. It looked like there were several different types of pillows to choose from, which was a plus. There was a television that dominated one wall and the remote on the nightstand. Opening the doors and drawers revealed plenty of storage space for clothing, and there actually already was a mini-fridge in the room.

The closet was huge with lots of hanging space and more shelves. 

The bathroom was amazing. It had a walk-in shower that could easily hold two or three people, with a seat along the back wall. There was an abundance of towels and a variety of products in the shower and in the vanity. 

"Okay, I can get used to this!" Stiles said. He unpacked his few clothes and they looked kind of lonely in the huge closet. His laptop went on the desk for now and he was glad to see multiple electrical outlets, as well as USB ports.

The shower was as good as it looked, with an 'immediate hot water' tank, so he'd never run out of hot water. 

He put on jeans and a t-shirt, since Peter had said they weren't going anywhere. He debated for a moment and decided to put on socks, since he didn't know what Peter expected in that regard. Some people were funny about bare feet.

Stiles decided he should probably plug in his phone for a bit. He did that and looked around. There was a small clock next to the bed that said it was just after seven thirty, so he went downstairs to the den.

Peter wasn't in the den as yet, so Stiles looked around some more. It was as much a library as it was a den, so Stiles happily started browsing.

"Find anything you like?" Peter asked.

Stiles jumped. He hadn't heard Peter come in. 

Peter was dressed in jeans and a v-neck sweater that probably cost more than the suit Stiles was wearing earlier. The sweater looked soft but well-worn, so it was something Peter probably wore on a regular basis.

"Just looking at the moment," Stiles admitted. "You have a lot of interesting subjects here."

"It's always good to know a little bit about everything," Peter replied. "If there's anything you want, there's an account at a local bookstore and they'll get it."

"What? No Amazon account?" Stiles teased. 

"Jeff is an asshole, so, no I don't have an Amazon account," Peter admitted. "I'd rather support a local bookstore anyway."

"His ex-wife is classy, though," Stiles said. "Giving away all his money to various causes."

"I agree!" Peter nodded. "Which reminds me that I was going to see if she needs help with doing htat. But if you want anything, let me know and I'll have it ordered. And I'll give you the contact information for the bookstore."

A chime rang.

"That's the front door," Peter explained. "Come and see the security, so you know what to do."

"Sure," Stiles agreed, following Peter.

"This is the main console," Peter pointed. "The buttons are labeled so you can see any of the entrances, but the default is the front door. There are additional front cameras in case you're not expecting someone, so you can see who is off to the side."

"Ah! Got it! What other entrances are there?" Stiles asked.

"There's a side door, through the basement," Peter said. "There's also a set of storm-cellar doors for deliveries on the back. We can check those out in the next couple of days."

"Is there much of a yard?" Stiles asked.

"It's not huge," Peter said. "But there are security cameras there also."

The chime sounded again.

There was a young man with a warming bag at the front door. Peter pressed the security release.

"Dinner has arrived," Peter said, opening the door.

Stiles took the food while Peter signed for the delivery. Stiles went to the kitchen, where Peter had laid out plates and utensils. 

"I hope the kitchen is okay? Would you like wine with dinner?" Peter asked.

"Kitchen is fine, I'm not fussy. And I don't know a lot about wine, but sure, whatever you suggest," Stiles agreed.

Peter poured two glasses and set them on the table as Stiles opened the food packages. 

"There's plenty, help yourself," Peter said.

Stiles took some of everything to get started and found he was hungry. The steaks cut with a fork and the shrimp scampi was garlicky and delicious. There were baked potatoes and both asparagus and green beans.

"This is very good," Stiles said. "Do you order from there a lot?"

"It's a good place to eat there," Peter said. "I went for delivery tonight to keep everything low-key."

"Do you order in a lot?" Stiles asked. "This looks like a great kitchen."

"If you want to cook, feel free," Peter said. "I have a service that provides pre-made meals, so you'll see a variety of foods already in the refrigerator. If I'm having a dinner party, which I rarely do here, I bring in a chef to prepare the meal. Otherwise, I end up eating out a lot."

"Well, you just got lucky, since I'm a pretty good cook," Stiles said. "Fed myself and my dad for years and learned a lot about different types of cooking."

"You're welcome to do that," Peter said. "Do the shopping yourself, or make a list and have Coach get what you need."

"Coach?" Stiles asked.

"It's a long story that he will tell you, but Coach is my... well, I guess major domo is the best way to describe it," Peter said. "He takes care of the house and the apartment for me, and anything I need, he gets. He's just... eccentric."

"Good to know!" Stiles said. 

"I have meetings all day tomorrow," Peter said. "I need to have building keys and your credit card re-made, since everything has Lydia's name on them. I can have them delivered here when they're ready."

"I have another wedding to work on," Stiles replied. "We're doing a food tasting for the meal and the cake. That's in the afternoon."

"If you'll be here until noon," -- Stiles nodded that he would -- "then I'll have the keys and credit card here before you leave," Peter said. "Use the credit card as you want, for everyday things. Uber, taxi service, call a limo if you need, whatever. You'll also need more clothes, I will guess, suits, evening wear, a tux."

"Oooo-kay..." Stiles drawled.

"I'll send you to my tailor for most of it," Peter said. "He knows what I like but will work with you. You can be... somewhat idiosyncratic, if you'd like, but there will be times you'll need to represent me and my family and I ask for some respect."

"More than reasonable," Stiles agreed. 

"Oh, your apartment," Peter said. "We were going to take care of that tomorrow."

"It can wait," Stiles said easily. "I can swing by there to get what clothes I have tomorrow on my way back from the tasting. The furniture mostly stays and the only bigger thing I was going to take was the mini-fridge I bought, but there's one in my room here already, so it's pretty redundant."

"Decide what you need, and Coach can get a moving service, if you need it," Peter shrugged. 

"I'm paid through the end of the month -- that gives me another week and a half," Stiles said. "I can figure it out between now and then. I'll leave a notice with the management service that I'll be out by the end of the month."

"Give Coach the information, he can do that for you," Peter said.

"Not hard," Stiles grinned. "But I'll keep that in mind if I run into any problems."

"Dessert is cheesecake or fancy cupcakes with whip cream and strawberries," Peter said.

"I'll have some of both!" Stiles grinned. 

"Coffee?" Peter asked.

"No, thanks," Stiles said. "I was diagnosed with ADHD as a kid and took meds for that for years. I've outgrown most of it and manage the rest without the drugs. Caffeine actually puts me to sleep, but I avoid most caffeine on general principles."

"Again, order in any teas or other beverages you'd like," Peter said. "This is your home, so make yourself comfortable."

"I will," Stiles said. "It's just, weird, I guess. Didn't plan on getting married when I got up this morning is all."

"While it's not what I planned on, I think we will do well together." Peter gave Stiles a small smile. 

Stiles helped put the extra food away and the dishes in the huge dishwasher. He used the cleaning up process to poke in the cabinets to see what was there. He found lots of dishware and glasses, cooking equipment, and appliances. 

"You seriously need some snacks in this place," Stiles teased. "Unless you're hiding them somewhere. My dad got really creative when it came to hiding cookies. He had to watch his weight and cholesterol at one point and I made it my job to help him do that. So it became a game where he'd hide the snacks and I'd try to find them before he could eat them." Stiles grinned. "I think we broke even over time, but it was good for us."

Peter grinned. "Nothing in hiding," he said. "I'd know if it was there, although Coach occasionally has some."

"I know," Stiles replied before Peter could say it. "I'll add it to the list!"

"Knew you were smart," Peter said. "Not that it's late, but I have to check my email and do a couple of things before I sleep. Anything you need?"

Stiles shook his head. "Not that I can think of," he said. 

"I'd like to go out to dinner tomorrow night," Peter said. "We need to be seen out and about together, at least briefly."

"What should I wear?" Stiles asked, thinking of his limited wardrobe.

"Business casual," Peter said. "Something better than jeans but not as formal as the suit you had on before."

"I can manage that," Stiles said.

"I'll have a car pick you up at seven thirty," Peter said. "It'll be easier to bring you to where I will be."

"Seven thirty," Stiles repeated. "Got it."

"I will see you then," Peter said. "Good night." He turned to leave. "Oh, most of the lights have motion sensors. If they're on for more than an hour without any motion in the room, they'll turn themselves off. Or you can use the switch, that will also turn things off. But if you forget or can't find the switch, you can just leave lights on. Don't worry about fumbling around in the dark."

"Good to know," Stiles said. "I think I'll look for a book to take with me."

"Good night," Peter said as he left the room.

"Good night," Stiles replied.

_Okay, not how he expected to spend his wedding night. With a book. And no good night kiss!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thanks everyone for your wonderful comments and your kudos! I'm amazed...
> 
> Have more Stiles figuring things out!

Stiles came down to breakfast the next morning to find a man with crazy hair dancing in the kitchen. No music was playing but the shuffling feet were rhythmic.

"Umm... hello?" Stiles called.

The man whirled around and then grinned. "You must be Bilinski! Welcome to the family!" He held out a hand. "I'm Coach!"

"Umm... it's Stilinski and, well, people call me Stiles," he said as he shook the man's hand.

Coach paused and peered carefully at him for a moment. "They do? Really?"

Stiles nodded. 

He shrugged. "Okay, then. Stiles." He let go of Stiles' hand. "What can I do for you? Breakfast?"

"That would be good," Stiles said. "I'll eat some of the leftovers from last night," he admitted. "That was really good food."

Coach stilled. "Ummm..."

Stiles laughed. "You ate it already, didn't you?"

"Guilty as charged," Coach admitted. "Goes to waste most of the time. But... hmmm... there's eggs, and..." He went to the freezer and pulled out a package. "Bagels! Although they've been frozen."

"Since you just took them from the freezer, that makes sense," Stiles pointed out. "Not that fussy -- scrambled eggs and a bagel will be fine. I can make it myself, if you're busy."

"No, no! I'm supposed to do that!" Coach said. "Well I am, but Peter rarely eats breakfast here. Or anything, really. So I don't have a lot of food on hand."

Stiles shrugged. "I can go out, if I need to," he said. "But eggs and a bagel will be fine."

"Good! Good!" Coach bustled about the kitchen, getting things ready. "What do want on your bagel?"

"Just butter is fine, but if you have any jelly, that would be good," Stiles said.

"Hmm... jelly... nope, don't think we have any," Coach said, peering into the refrigerator. 

"Then just butter," Stiles said. 

"Eggs and a bagel, coming up!" 

"Anything I can do to help?" Stiles asked. 

"Grab a plate and a fork, or whatever you need," Coach said over his shoulder. "And do you want coffee?"

"Caffeine puts me to sleep," Stiles said. "Orange juice? Or juice of any kind?"

"OJ I got!" Coach said proudly.

"Peter said to talk to you about groceries?" Stiles said. "I like to cook myself and there are no snacks around here."

"Sure! Make a list and I'll be glad to get whatever you'd like," Coach said. "Peter eats out like ninety-nine percent of the time, so there's not a lot in the house. And that lady he was going to marry didn't seem like the cooking type, if you know what I mean."

"No, Lydia wasn't," Stiles laughed. "Until I figure things out, I'd like to have some food in the house so I don't have to plan to eat out all the time."

"The meal delivery service has a menu, too," Coach said, scrabbling through a drawer. "Peter gets the same couple of things most of the time, but there are other options there, too." He put a brochure on the table in front of Stiles.

"This is okay for like emergencies, but I think I'm a pretty good cook and would rather take the time to make something," Stile said. "So I'd rather have food in the cupboard and some things in the freezer so I can make a decent meal."

Coach slid a plate in front of Stiles. "I've been trying to do that for years. Maybe you'll have better luck."

"If nothing else, I can feed myself," Stiles said. "Thanks!"

"You're welcome!" 

They spent another hour coming up with a grocery list for the house. Coach was interested in some of the meals Stiles wanted to make and steered him away from some foods Peter disliked.

"Green peppers?" Stiles was incredulous. "Who doesn't like green peppers?"

"Peter, for one," Coach laughed. "He'll eat them raw or in a salad, but he really doesn't like them cooked. He'll eat whatever it is to be polite, but it's just something he doesn't like."

"Huh," Stile said. "I can work with that." 

"Okay, now that we have that done, let me show you the exits," Coach said. 

"Peter said there were a couple," Stiles said. "It'll be good to know where they are."

"Let's go up to the office and I'll show you the roof exit," Coach directed Stiles up the stairs.

"In case of fire or something?" Stiles asked.

"You could say that," Coach nodded. 

"If you're in the house alone, don't use the balcony," Coach said. "It's just that you can be seen from other houses and we don't always know who might be staying there."

"Paparazzi?" Stiles asked.

"That and stalkers," Coach admitted. "Just easier to not use it."

"Good to know," Stiles said looking at the glass doors that had curtains on them to prevent someone from seeing in. "Oh, bullet proof glass! That makes sense."

"You recognized that?" Coach asked.

"Cop's kid," Stiles said. "My dad was a deputy for years, then became Sheriff in our home town in California."

"Good, that makes some of the security things easier to explain," Coach said.

Turned out the emergency exit was behind a book case -- 'what a cliche' Stiles muttered -- that led to an outside ledge. There were handholds to let one climb down the side of the house.

"Can't be opened from the outside, so if you go out that way, you can't get back in," Coach said.

All of the bedrooms had emergency ladders in one of the windows. Windows that could be seen from neighboring homes also had bulletproof glass -- which meant almost all of them. They went into what would have been Lydia's bedroom and it was tastefully decorated but had different furniture than Stiles' room did. 

"It's not awful, so we'll leave it for now," Coach said. "We'll pack up the clothes and things and send them to her." He opened the closet briefly and Stiles saw it was full.

"Wow," Stiles said. "I'll have to work hard to catch up to that!"

"Peter will fill that closet for you, mark my word," Coach said. "He likes nice things and likes to share them. And he's always going off to galas and other fancy events, so looking nice is part of what he does."

"Good to know," Stiles nodded. 

The back yard was small, as Peter had said, but it was pretty and the green space would be appreciated.

He pointed at the garage. "I live over the garage," Coach said. "It's another cliche. It's small but gives me some privacy. Also, I'm also on the grounds 'round the clock if you need anything. Umm... call first before you come, though. Just to make sure I'm dressed."

Stiles laughed. "Got it!"

"You probably shouldn't be out here when you're alone," Coach said. "When you're outside the house, you're in the secondary security area. It's harder to see into this space from the neighbors, but always assume someone can see you."

"I won't have the same profile that Lydia would," Stiles offered. "And my dad's made sure I've had all the defensive training I would put up with. If someone is looking to kidnap me, being male will make them change their approach, if nothing else." 

"Cop's kid, right!" Coach laughed. His phone rang. "Coming." He turned to Stiles. "Delivery for you."

"I need to be somewhere myself this afternoon," Stiles said. "I still have a day job and I'm not going to leave folk in a lurch, just because I got married yesterday. So that should be some things Peter promised me."

The courier required Coach to sign for the delivery before he would leave the over-sized envelope.

Stiles opened it to find the promised credit card -- _a black card_ his inner kid danced around in joy -- and a passkey to the house. There was also the newest iPhone.

There was a note on the phone. _Put a passcode on it, it's unlocked right now. We can get someone to add your contacts if you need help._

When Stiles scrolled through the existing contacts in the new phone, he found Peter's cell and office numbers. Coach pointed out his number, the house number -- _there's a land line here? really?_ \-- and the number for the security firm that worked for Peter. Derek Hale was there also.

"I'll update the contacts later," Stiles decided. "I need to get to Astoria for a meeting."

"Use the card," Coach advised. "And set up a Yellow Cab account. I'll leave you the information for the car service, you'll need that at some point."

"Sure," Stiles agreed. He opened the Uber app on his own phone and added the new credit card information. He requested a ride to Astoria and a car would be at the house in twenty minutes.

"Okay, thanks for everything," Stiles said. "I know I should ask more questions, but I'm not sure what they should be."

"Text me any time," Coach said. "Especially for house things. Peter doesn't pay attention to some things and that's what I'm here for."

"Fair enough," Stiles said. "See you later."

Stiles went up to his room to grab his laptop and put both his phone and his new phone in the messenger bag he used for wedding planning. He put the credit card and house key card in an inside pocket of the bag.

The Uber was on time and the driver was quiet, allowing Stiles to gather his thoughts for the planning session he was going to. With the whirlwind the last two days had been, he had to review what he was doing.

The Greek couple he was working with were fun. They were boisterous and interested in the process. Stiles figured the bride could manage her own wedding without him, but he was a 'status' symbol that she had a 'wedding planner' to help. He mostly used his generic planning list to make sure they didn't miss anything.

Stiles made it back to the house in time to take a shower and change into clean clothes. Although he'd have to get to the apartment tomorrow to get the rest of this clothes. He texted Coach to ask where the laundry was in the house.

_It's in the basement. Do it yourself or leave it for the cleaning people -- they come twice a week and will do whatever's in the baskets in the bathrooms._

Stiles had to think twice about leaving his laundry for someone else. On the one hand, having someone do his laundry was quite the luxury. On the other hand, it would be someone else handling his underwear. He and his dad used to do each other's clothes, so it wasn't that odd, but these were _strangers_. He'd think about it.

Stiles was ready well before seven thirty, and started to get nervous. He and Peter had spent next to no time together and Stiles had an attack of nerves. When the car arrived, he almost forgot how to set the house alarm before closing the door behind him. The driver held the car door for Stiles to get into the back of the Town car. Not quite a limo but definitely larger than the compact cars that seemed to be popular with Uber drivers.

The car went into the city and Stiles could have kicked himself for not asking where Peter was taking him for dinner. Traffic was relatively light for a week-night and it took about thirty minutes to get to their destination.

When he car stopped, Stiles was unsure what to do. Did he wait for the driver to open the door? Did he open the door himself? Did he tip the driver? That thought sent him into a small panic, he didn't have any cash on him.

Fortunately, Peter was waiting for him and opened the car door. Stiles scrambled out.

Peter took his hand. "People are watching," he said softly. 

That he could deal with. Stiles relaxed, smiled and moved closer to Peter. He leaned in for a small kiss and could tell Peter was surprised but pleased.

"We have a table waiting for us," Peter said.

"Umm... not to be, whatever," Stiles stumbled. "Do I tip the car service guy?"

"You can, but it's not necessary," Peter said. "They bill monthly and I have a gratuity added when I pay the bill. If someone does something special, you can tip then or make a note of the trip and I'll have it added later."

"Okay," Stiles nodded. Good to know."

They were escorted to a table that wasn't in the middle of the room and also away from the windows. But Stiles could see that they were 'on display' in the room.

"This is nicer than you said it was," Stiles said, frowning. "I'm seriously under dressed." Stiles now wished he had taken the time to iron the khaki pants and the shirt he was wearing. At least it was a classic button down. The off-the-rack blazer he wore looked, well, off the rack -- it didn't not-fit, it just didn't fit quite right.

"You're fine," Peter assured him. Peter was in much nicer clothes than Stiles. But the clothes had been pressed recently and the jacket fit perfectly. 

"Next time, I need to ask more questions," Stiles said. "But this isn't going to look good, you know. If this is going to work, you need to keep me informed."

Peter sat back and looked thoughtfully at Stiles. "You're right, and I'm sorry. Are you free tomorrow?"

"Except for cleaning out my apartment, I have no specific plans," Stiles admitted.

"Let me make a call?" Peter asked. Stiles nodded. "Bill? Peter Hale." Peter nodded. "I'm fine. Listen, I need a favor." Peter laughed at whatever was said on the other end. "I finally got married yesterday. Yes, thank you. My husband..." Peter laughed again. "Yes, I know. Everyone is having a fit. But my husband needs a full wardrobe. Skin out." Peter nodded as if Bill could see him. "He's free tomorrow and I was hoping you could at least get started." More nodding. "He'll be there. And thank you." Some listening. "Send me the information, I'll see what I can do." Nodding. "Okay, thank you!" Peter hung up.

"You have an appointment with my tailor at nine," Peter said. "He only has the morning free, but he'll do what he can with that."

"Only the morning?" Stiles frowned. "I can go to..."

Peter held up a hand. "No, you're right. I need you to help make the right impression and if you don't have the tools to do that, it's my fault."

"Skin out?" Stiles asked.

Peter laughed. "Oh, yes. You have a lot to learn!"

_And Stiles had been worried about the laundry service handling his underwear. This was going to be interesting!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm blown away at all of you reading this... thank you for all the comments and kudo!
> 
> Here's some more!

Not really hungry from the late dinner, Stiles went down to the kitchen to scrounge some thing lighter for breakfast.

"Morning!" Coach called cheerfully. "Breakfast?"

"Do we have cereal?" Stiles asked. 

"Yup!" Coach replied. "Pick your poison!" He gestured to a cabinet with multiple boxes of cereal.

Stiles took out the Cheerios and grabbed a bowl. Coach put the milk on the table. "Sugar?"

"No, thanks," Stiles waved it away. "After all the food last night, I need something simpler this morning."

"Juice?"

Stiles nodded. "Sure, that would be good."

Coach poured a glass of orange juice and put it in front of Stiles.

"Car coming for you at half past eight," Coach said. "To take you to Bill's for clothes."

"Who is this Bill person?" Stiles asked, curious.

"Mostly? He's a personal tailor," Coach replied. "He makes or tailors most all of Peter's clothes, except for the occasional Armani or things he buys in London. You'll be glad for that oversize closet before Bill is done with you."

"Mostly? What else does he do?" Stiles asked as he ate his cereal.

"A bit of this, a bit of that," Coach waved a hand. "If he wants you to know, he'll tell you."

"Got it!" Stiles said. But now he knew to keep his eyes open while he was getting his new wardrobe.

"Let me know when you go to your old apartment," Coach said. "So I know if you need things moved or or need some help."

"Not much there," Stiles admitted. "I had a mini-fridge I was going to take, but I certainly don't need that here. There's a family across the hall. I don't know them but I'll see if they want it," Stiles had thought of that last night. "Beyond that, it's mostly clothes, which I may or may not need after today, and a handful of personal things." Stiles shrugged. "Didn't bring anything terribly valuable, since I didn't know what kind of apartment I'd find."

Coach obviously debated for a minute as Stiles finished his cereal. 

"Okay, Peter said you need to be out of Bill's by noon," he said. "I'll have a car pick you up at Bill's and take you to your old place. The driver can wait for you while you pack up. If you only need a set of hands carrying things, the driver will do that. And a town car will have a larger trunk to fit a fair amount of stuff. If there's more than that, call me and we can figure it out from there."

"I should be able to manage," Stiles protested. "It won't be that much."

"Not a big deal," Coach said firmly. "You'll have a bag of clothes and a bag of personal stuff, at the very least. No sense in struggling when it can be easy."

"Huh," Stiles huffed. "Okay. Just... all this money thing takes some getting used to."

"I get it," Coach agreed. "That's part of what I can help with, you know. If you're not sure of something, just ask. You make the final decision but, well, I'm not Peter so you have to work pretty hard to offend me."

"Umm... okay..." Stiles replied. Maybe that would help. And he could talk to his dad.

"Okay, finish up. You gotta go," Coach said. 

"Okay, I'll call you when we're done," Stiles agreed. 

"I'll be here!" Coach called.

The car took Stiles to a brownstone in Brooklyn. He peered through the window. 

"This is the address I have," the driver said.

"Umm... can you wait until I go inside?" Stiles asked. "Just to be sure?"

"Sure," the driver nodded.

Stiles got out of the car and went up to the door. He pressed the buzzer and waited.

A tall, thin, grey-haired man opened the door. He wore casual but obviously very nice clothes. "Stiles?" 

"Bill?" 

"Yes, yes," the man nodded. "Come in, we don't have much time."

Stiles waved at the driver and went in.

Bill led him to the back of the house, where extensive remodeling had obviously been done. The back was one large room with mannequins along one wall and whiteboards with sketches everywhere.

"Peter says you need a full wardrobe?" Bill said.

Stiles shrugged. "We just got married and while I'm new to this having money thing, I know I need to look better than this to keep up with him." He waved a hand at his jeans and blazer.

Bill's head came up. "Married?"

"Yup! Two days ago now," Stiles answered.

"Oh, my!" Bill grinned. "Oh, yes. This will be such fun!"

Stiles suspected he should be worried about Bill's enthusiasm.

"Okay, clothes off, then over there," Bill directed. When Stiles hesitated, Bill said, "Down to your shorts, or whatever. I need to take measurements." 

Faintly reassured, Stiles was glad he had his 'good' boxer-briefs on. He put his clothes on an empty chair and then stood on the small platform.

It was almost like the wand shop scene in Harry Potter. Bill whipped out a measuring tape and measured all of Stiles, parts that Stiles was pretty sure had never been measured before. Bill moved quickly and impersonally and never wrote anything down.

"Okay, these are acceptable," Bill poked at Stiles' underwear. "Do you usually wear this style of briefs?"

"I prefer them, yes," Stiles nodded.

"What do you think you need first?" Bill asked.

"Casual-ish clothes. We went to dinner last night and I was seriously under-dressed," Stiles said. "Peter under sold how 'casual' the place was and I was dressed not too differently than now. It's what I have to work with. I need to be able to keep up with him and not be the 'poor kid Peter took pity on.'"

Bill stood back and looked Stiles over. Stiles tried not to fidget. At least the studio wasn't cold, although there must be near-naked people here all the time. Bill slowly walked around Stiles in silence. 

Coming back around to face Stiles, Bill held out a hand toward Stiles. "May I?" he asked.

Not quite sure what was going on, Stiles nodded. "Sure."

Bill put his hand on Stile's shoulder and then closed his eyes. 

"Oh! That is interesting!" Bill said softly. He opened his eyes. "Yes, I can see what Peter sees in you."

"What?" Stiles asked.

"But that would be telling!" Bill said with a grin. "You'll be good for him. That's important to remember."

"O-o-o-kay..." Stiles drawled.

"Do you have anything you dislike?" Bill asked. "In clothing?"

Stiles shrugged. "I've never found anything I hated. I like comfortable clothes, I guess. I'm a wedding planner, so I understand the need for formal clothes. But I've pretty much made do with what I can get off the rack."

Bill nodded. "Understood," he said. "I'll have some things brought down to try on and you need to give me an honest opinion. Fit, color, style... tell me what you think."

"I'll do my best," Stiles promised.

Bill picked up a phone and directed someone to bring some things down for Stiles to try. He used a verbal short-hand, so Stiles wasn't quite sure what he was getting. 

Three people came down with their arms loaded with various clothes. They spread them about the room, hanging where possible or laying them on chairs.

"Okay, pick an outfit," Bill directed. "Something you might have worn to dinner last night. Don't think about it too much, it's mostly somewhere to get started."

Stiles walked once around the room, making note of things he might like. He chose light grey dress pants, an white button-down shirt and a deep maroon -- almost black -- blazer.

"These," Stiles said.

"Classic, but that's never bad," Bill nodded. "Let's try them on."

The pants hems were unfinished, and Stiles turned to look at himself in the mirror.

"Wow, just getting something that's better fitted makes me look really good," Stiles admitted.

"The actual secret to having well fitted clothes is to have everything fitted," Bill replied. 

"Everything?" Stiles was amazed.

Bill nodded. "T-shirts, jeans, sweats... everything."

"Huh. That means pretty much nothing off the rack?" Stiles asked.

"No, that means anything that comes off the rack comes here first," Bill replied. "Now that I have your measurements, we can fit anything you need. And I have enough staff to turn anything you want around in a relatively short time. Same day service costs more, of course. But we'll do it."

"I don't need..."

Bill held up a hand. "We touch almost all of Peter's clothes before he does," he said. "If you honestly want to keep up with him, you'll do the same."

Stiles considered. He looked himself in the mirror and liked what he saw. And he knew it would make him more confident. 

"Okay," Stiles nodded. "I can do that."

They spent the rest of the morning going through what Stiles did and did not like. Colors, styles, fit, material -- Stiles had never paid attention to how much effort went into clothing and looking good.

By the time he had to leave, Stiles had several boxes of clothing to take with him. 

"You'll need dress shoes," Bill reminded him. "Peter has some opinions about that. Let me know what you get, so I can make sure your slacks fit the heel properly."

_Shoes?_ "Okay," Stiles agreed, slightly overwhelmed.

"I'll need to see you back here in... a week?" Bill said. "By then you'll be ready for some formal clothes and I'll have some more choices for you to pick from."

They compared calendars and scheduled the appointment for another full morning. Stiles texted the car service to let them know he'd be ready for pickup in about fifteen minutes. 

"Thank you," Stiles said.

"It was good to meet you, and I will see you again next week," Bill said.

Coach had evidently warned the service about the plan to move out of the apartment, so this time there was a large SUV so there would be room for whatever Stiles wanted to move to the house.

The drive to the apartment went quickly. There wasn't anywhere decent to park, so the driver said, "I'll drop you off now and keep an eye out. If something opens up, fine. If not, let me know when you're ready and I'll just double park for the short time it should take to get your things down."

"No elevator," Stiles warned. "And it's the third floor."

The driver rolled his eyes. "Figures. Not a problem."

"Okay, thanks!" 

Stiles trudged up the stairs to the third floor. He opened his door and looked around. 

He started with his clothes, stacking them up for packing, and winced that some of it should have been washed but he refused to be fussed about that at the moment. He also knew he'd be getting a collection of clothes from Bill over the next few days, so he didn't worry about it too much.

He looked at the mini-fridge and went out into the hall. There wasn't that much in it and he emptied it quickly. The food had mostly gone off, so that went into the trash. He left anything that was still sealed inside.

There had been a family... there. He knocked on the door. It opened to the limit of the chain lock and a small child looked at him. 

"Is your mom home?" Stiles asked gently. 

The door shut and he heard a voice call, "Mama, un hombre esta en la puerta para ti."

Stiles hoped his Spanglish would be up to this.

"Yes?" a wary voice asked.

"I'm umm... moving out of apartment 314 and I have a small refrigerator that I won't need and I was wondering if you wanted it?" Stiles asked.

The woman frowned. "How much?"

"No, no cost. Free," Stiles assured her. "I, well, I got lucky and I don't need it any more."

The woman looked at him suspiciously. 

"Honest!" Stiles held up a hand that may or may not mean he was telling the truth. "Come and look at it."

"Is it stolen?" she asked.

"Nope, paid for it," Stiles said. "My dad is a cop..." she started to shut the door... "in California. I wouldn't do that! Promise."

"You're just giving it away."

Stiles nodded. "The manager was supposed to get me a new fridge, the one that came with the apartment never worked. It was easier to get a mini-fridge on my own."

"Give me a minute," she said. "I have to make sure Lita won't follow me out into the hall."

"I'm just over there in 314," Stiles pointed. "I'm packing the rest of my stuff up, so come over when you're ready."

The door closed. Stiles had done what he could. He went back and started packing up the few non-clothing items he had left. Damn. He could have used a couple of boxes. Oh, he had some garbage bags, that would have to do. Now that he was finally doing this, he wasn't coming back.

He was just putting clothes in a bag when the woman tapped at his open door.

"Hola?" she called.

"Come in," Stiles replied. "Here it is. I'm going to be honest and say you may want to clean it out more when you can. I've emptied the food out of it, and there are some drinks that I'm not going to take, mostly soda. You can have those, too."

"You not want money?"

"Nope!" Stiles said cheerfully. "All yours."

"How we move?" she asked.

"Damn... oh, wait," Stiles looked around. "Here, let's put it on a chair and that should be easier to slide down the hall than carrying it."

She rolled her eyes. "Be right back." She came back with a pretty sturdy looking computer chair, with wheels. And no arms. 

"Excellent!" Stiles grinned. They lifted the fridge onto the chair, and then pushed the chair down the hall. Once it got over the thresh hold, she looked at Stiles. "Gracias."

"You're welcome!" 

Stiles texted the driver that he was getting close to done and he could come up and get a load. Coach had been right, it was more than Stiles could manage alone.

"Moving out, Stilinski?"

Stiles whirled to face the door. Damn!

"Rankin. What can I do for you?"

"Go out on a date with me," Theo Rankin demanded.

"Kinda hard to do that, since I just got married," Stiles smirked. 

"Who the fuck would marry you?" Theo sneered.

"None of your business, is who," Stiles replied. "Go away."

"Doesn't mean we still can't have a good time! You look like you could use a good fuck."

"And... no. Not only no, hell no," Stiles said firmly.

"Is this person bothering you, Mr. Stilinski?" The driver came up behind Theo. Stiles was glad to see Theo jump. Stiles hoped the driver overheard at least some of Theo's intimidation attempt.

"He's just leaving," Stiles said. "Aren't you? Or should I call the police. Again?" Stiles had called the local precinct to make a complaint about Theo, just so it was on the record. 

"Fuck off," Theo grunted before leaving.

"Asshole," Stiles muttered. "Good timing."

"Mr. Hale would be unhappy if something happened that wasn't supposed to," the man admitted. 

"He's just a pain in the ass that won't take no for an answer," Stiles admitted. "Okay, I have like half a dozen things to take. If I knew there was that much I would have gotten boxes or something. I'll take the one bag that's kinda fragile, but the rest is clothes and books and unbreakable."

"We should be able to do this in two trips," the driver decided. "Take your breakables bag and I'll grab two. Then we'll come back for the rest."

Fortunately, Theo had disappeared to where ever Theo hung out, and they got Stiles belongings' out in the two trips. Before they left, Stiles made one last circuit of the small room, just to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

"Looks good," Stiles said. 

He locked the door for one last time and they left.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad to see everyone who is reading this and I'm having a blast writing it... 
> 
> Thanks to everyone for kudos and comments... they are treasured!

"Bilinski, I could have had someone pack this all up in like real boxes. Neatly," Coach said, looking at the plastic bags laying about Stiles' room.

"Not a problem. Really," Stiles said. "It's not that much!"

"Give me your keys and I'll send a cleaning crew, just to make sure," Coach added.

"It's not that big a space, to need a cleaning crew," Stiles hedged.

"No big deal," Coach shrugged. "But Peter will want to make sure no one gives you any grief about your deposit."

"Okay, thanks," Stiles said, handing over the key.

Stiles put the clothes from Bill in his closet. Most of it needed to be hung, so he did that. Huh. It started to put a dent in the huge closet. A small dent.

Deciding that he should wash the clothes he brought from the apartment, he sorted through the plastic bags. He put everything to be washed in one bag. 

Coach was puttering around in the kitchen. Stiles held up the bag, "Laundry?"

"Through here," Coach pointed. "The cleaning service can do that for you."

Stiles shrugged. "Nothing special to do at the moment, figured I'd check it out."

"Suit yourself," Coach replied. He pointed out the various supplies and left.

The washer and dryer were over-size, where he could almost have put everything in one load. He decided to be reasonable and made two loads out of his clothes. The washing machine also had a timer that told you how much longer a load would be. He made a note of the time, so he'd know when the load was done.

In the kitchen, Stiles asked. "What about dry-cleaning?"

"Use the green basket in any of the bathrooms," Coach said. "The service will take care of that. They look for stains and such, so you don't have to think too hard about it."

"Okay," Stiles said. "What are we doing for dinner tonight?"

Coach shrugged. "Ask Peter, I guess."

"Oh, right," Stiles blushed. "Umm... I'll go do that."

Stiles went back to his room to get his phone. He texted Peter _Dinner plans? If not, I'd be glad to make something._

Deciding to set up his computer, Stiles took his equipment up to the third floor. There was a sheet with the wi-fi password and connection directions on the spare desk.

Stiles was setting up his connection to the printer when his phone dinged.

_You don't have to, but a home cooked meal would be good._

Stiles looked at a clock. Okay, he had time.

_Won't be fancy, but it'll be good! What time?_

It took a minute, but Peter wrote back. _About two hours? That okay?_

_Perfect. See you then._

Coach must be in his apartment, so Stiles had the kitchen to himself. He pulled all the ingredients he wanted to use out, just to make sure it was available. Once he was sure he had everything he'd need, he started to work.

He had to dig into the cupboards to find pots and pans and cooking utensils, but he found what he needed.

Peter came in about half an hour earlier than he had predicted.

"You're early, but that's good," Stiles said. "Get comfortable, I've made comfort food."

"Smells good," Peter grinned. "Do I have time for a shower?"

"Sure!" Stiles nodded. "There's nothing that requires precise timing."

"Okay, I'll be right back," Peter said. 

Stiles was making gravy when Peter came back, dressed in sweatpants and another soft sweater.

"Wine?" Peter asked. "What are we having?"

"Full on comfort food," Stiles said. "Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, broccoli, rolls. So if you have a wine that goes with that, it would be good."

"Hmm... a red, I think," Peter said. "Be right back."

"Does it have to breathe?" Stiles asked. "This will be ready shortly."

"I'll get something that will be fine," Peter said as he went to the stairs to the basement. Stiles figured the wine cellar -- because, of course, Peter would have a well stocked wine cellar -- was in the basement.

Stiles was about ready to put the food on the table when Peter came back. Peter opened the wine, then got glasses from another cupboard and took them to the kitchen table. 

"Sit," Stiles directed as he put the food on the table. "Help yourself."

Peter poured them each a glass of wine, then filled his plate. 

"This is very good," he said. "I don't think anyone's cooked for just me in years."

Stiles smiled. "Glad you like it. It's my mother's recipe." He took a sip of the wine. "This goes well with it."

"What else did you do today?" Peter asked.

"Spent the morning getting what I think will be more clothes than I've owned in my entire life," Stiles said. "Bill was cool, though. I brought some things home today and he'll send some things over the next few days. And we have another appointment for next week. Oh, he says I'm supposed to talk to you about dress shoes."

"Right," Peter nodded. "I'll have Coach make an appointment for you."

"Okay," Stiles nodded. 

Peter had second helpings of everything, to Stiles' pleasure. Peter helped him clean up and they put the leftovers in the refrigerator. 

"Coach will finish that up in the morning," Stiles commented. He had made enough to have left-overs.

"Most likely!" Peter nodded.

"Anything we need to do this evening? Or over the next couple of days? Or weeks?" Stiles asked. "I just want to be prepared for whatever you need me for."

"Good idea," Peter agreed. "Do you have a calendar?" 

"On my phone. It's upstairs, in the workroom," Stiles said. "I set up my laptop there, so my phone is up there."

"I mostly look at it on my phone," Peter said. "But we can use my computer so we can see it on a larger screen."

"Sure," Stiles agreed. 

They walked up to the third floor in companionable silence.

Stiles grabbed the chair from the spare desk - his desk - and brought it over to Peter's desk as Peter logged in.

"Whoa," Stiles said, seeing Peter's packed calendar. 

"Meh," Peter shrugged. "Most of that is business. The yellow highlighted items are social and the light blue is business social."

"Do you need me for all of those?" Stiles asked, slightly nervous about the number of yellow and light blue boxes there were on the calendar. He took a breath. "I should be able to do all of those. Or, well, let me check."

Stiles brought up his relatively empty calendar. "Okay, I have a wedding on the seventeenth. And..." Stiles looked up in frustration. He poked at his calendar. "What's your email that goes with that calendar?" Peter rattled it off. Stiles poked at his phone for a bit then looked up. "I've invited you to everything important on my calendar. You'll be able to see what overlaps."

"I'll invite you back to the events I need you for," Peter said. "Who else has your email address?"

"It's my main account, so, well, everyone," Stiles admitted.

"I'll get one made on the family domain," Peter said. He sent an email off. "You should get emails with information on that. One with the username, a separate one with the password. Once you have that, use it for your calendar."

"That makes sense," Stiles nodded. "Okay, looking at this, we have one major conflict coming up. I have a wedding in Astoria I need to be at and it's one of your yellow events."

Peter opened the event and looked at it for a minute. He drummed his fingers on the desktop for a moment. "Fuck it. Could you use a plus one for the wedding?"

Stiles stared for a moment. "Umm... sure. Wait. Are you sure? I'll have work to do, so it's not just a night out."

Peter shrugged. "You're stuck going to a bunch of my work events. I can go to one of yours."

"Oh. DIdn't think of it that way," Stiles grinned. "It's a traditional Greek wedding and I was looking forward to it. The bride is actually pretty competent, but she uses me as a reason to not have to do some of the things her future mother-in-law wants."

"Smart woman," Peter said.

"Sure is," Stiles agreed. 

"Sounds like fun," Peter added.

"Which is why I was looking forward to it. And, it's why I need to be there," Stiles went on. "The bride can blame anything she needs on me and by the time the mother-in-law gets to me, it's too late or too expensive to change anything."

"I won't mess anything up?" Peter asked.

"Oh, no!" Stiles laughed. "It will be brilliant. The mother-in-law is such a snob that anything that _Peter Hale's husband_ says will be gospel."

"Glad to be useful," Peter grinned.

"Okay, now that that's settled, I need more information on some of these events. What are they? What's expected of either of us? You know we'll be separated at some point and while I can play dumb, I don't think that's what you're looking for."

"No, it's not," Peter admitted. "I'll get my assistant to prepare a briefing for the first set of events. We'll see how that works."

"Better than nothing," Stiles said. "Okay, the big question. What do you actually do? I assume you have people that clean up your online information, so that's all sanitized. I don't need details and all, but I should have a clue."

Peter sat back and looked at Stiles, obviously considering.

"The Hale family businesses are my main focus," Peter said. "I work as a... troubleshooter wherever needed."

"You're a fixer."

"Pretty much," Peter shrugged.

"Huh. Didn't think it would pay so well," Stiles said.

"Well, a good chunk of my money is inherited," Peter said. "I've invested in a variety of businesses and other investments to add to it and I've been fortunate that most of those have gone well for me. I also have a retainer from the family businesses for any work I do."

"Ah! The old-fashioned way, you inherited it!" Stiles grinned.

Peter nodded. 

"So, I don't suppose you own anything interesting," Stiles asked. 

Peter shrugged. "Most of it is in financial institutions. Mutual funds as an example. A certain amount of real estate, but none in the city. I get better return on any investment in mid-size cities."

"Huh," Stiles said.

"Anything else?" Peter asked.

"Security? Coach told me to do Uber and get a Yellow Cab app to travel around, but, well -- cop's kid, remember -- is that safe?" Stiles asked.

Another shrug. "It's kind of damned if you do, damned if you don't," Peter said. "While I generally use the car service, mostly for the convenience, it's mostly to be safer. If I wanted to be more paranoid about it, I'd have a car and private driver. But then they'd have to live here, or in the immediate area and I like my privacy. Having Coach on the property isn't bad and something I've gotten used to. But then I should have a live-in cleaning person and a live-in cook and, and, and."

"I get the privacy thing," Stiles admitted.

"And, not something I can fully share with you as yet, I have some personal protection experience and can take care of myself in most situations," Peter added.

"Ooo-kay," Stiles drawled. "How worried should I be?"

"At this moment, you have a relatively low profile," Peter said. "It's going to escalate quickly at some point. But you come under the Hale umbrella which gives some protection."

"A 'don't mess with Hales' sort of thing?"

"Pretty much. And spouses and children are supposed to be off-limits," Peter said.

"Supposed to be?"

Another shrug. "There are immediate and severe reactions to any threats to family. While there are always rogue elements, shall we say, that's pretty rare."

"Okay." Stiles blew out a breath. "I had a license for handguns in California. My dad made sure I knew how to handle weapons as a teenager. I haven't been to a range since I've been here, since New York has weird gun laws. I've had, again care of my dad, personal protection training. So I know enough to be aware and protect myself."

"I can get you a carry license, if you want," Peter offered. "Well, the lawyers can do that."

"Let me think about it," Stiles said. "I don't feel an immediate need, but I'll let you know if I change my mind."

"Any time," Peter said.

"Now, what's coming up in the next week that I need formal clothes for?" Stiles asked. "I have some casual clothes from today with Bill, and more coming when it's ready. We have another appointment early next week. We're working on formal clothes then."

"The dinner tomorrow is business formal, so the suit you wore for the wedding should do," Peter said. 

"It needs pressing," Stiles admitted. 

"Give it to Coach, he can have it steamed," Peter directed. 

"Okay. What else?" Stiles asked.

"Family dinner on Saturday," Peter said. "Just the immediate family, so my sister, her husband, her kids and significant others. That's just family so it's very casual."

"Does that include Derek?" Stiles said. 

"He tries to duck out, but I can let him know you asked after him," Peter nodded.

"Only if he's willing," Stiles protested. "He doesn't have to come just for me."

"I'll let him know," Peter said. "He can make his own decision."

"That's fair," Stiles replied.

The business dinner was uneventful. Stiles got a number of second looks when Peter announced their marriage but Peter never left his side. 

The family dinner was another matter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something for those of you who have been hanging around and hoping for more... Now that NaNo is over and I've got my Santa fics under control, I can work on this!

The car pulled up in front of an apartment building on the East side of NY that looked out over Central Park.

Stiles craned his neck as he looked up. "I'm guessing the family owns the building?"

"Got it in one," Peter grinned.

"Mr. Hale." The door man nodded at Peter.

"This is my husband, Stiles Stilinski," Peter introduced them. 

"Mr. Stilinski." Another solemn nod. "My congratulations."

"Thank you."

"Mrs. Hale is expecting you, sir. Go on up."

Huh. Peter was a Hale and his sister was _Mrs._ Hale. Stiles wondered if maybe she took the Mrs but not her husband's last name. Minor mystery in the grand scheme of things.

Peter led Stiles to the elevators and pressed the button for the top floor. 

The elevator opened to a small landing with a single door. The door opened and Stiles saw a woman with a _presence_ standing in the doorway. She was a few inches shorter than Peter, but she gave an impression of being larger. He'd have to think about that.

"Peter! Good to see you!"

Peter took Stiles' hand. "Stiles, this is my sister Talia."

Stiles held out his other hand. "Pleased to meet you." 

She looked at his hand in mild consternation. She slowly reached out a hand and barely shook his hand before dropping it.

"Stiles," she said. "What an interesting name."

"It's a nickname," Stiles replied. "My real name is a nightmare and mostly unpronounceable."

"In any case, welcome to the family," she said.

"Thank you," Stiles replied pleasantly.

"Come in, you're the first one's here. We'll have a drink before dinner." Talia led the way to the living room. "What will you have?"

Stiles looked at Peter. He wasn't sure what was a good option.

"I'll have some bourbon, and maybe a vodka tonic for Stiles?" Peter suggested.

"Actually, some of that bourbon will be fine," Stiles shrugged. 

"Two bourbons, then," Peter agreed. "Ice?"

"Definitely," Stiles nodded. "Did you know most spirits like bourbon are meant to have at least a splash of water for the best taste?"

"I did not know that," Peter admitted.

"Where would you have learned something like that?" Talia asked.

"Distillery tour," Stiles admitted. "And I've picked up a lot of information planning weddings. Kind of surprised you don't know that."

"I prefer wine," Talia replied. "While I have a variety of spirits on hand for others, and I will drink it if necessary, I never developed a taste for it."

"Okay, then, you need a lesson in tasting," Stiles declared. "Let's have your bottle, three glasses and some ice."

"Okay..." Talia looked at him dubiously. "You should find everything here." She pointed to the wet bar.

"Good," Stiles smiled. He picked up a bottle and looked at it. "Good stuff."

"Only the best," Peter grinned.

Stiles laughed. He pulled out three glasses and set them on the bar. He poured a small splash of bourbon in each glass. He handed them out.

"Take the teeniest sip," Stiles directed. "Don't drink all of it."

He watched as they took a taste and Talia made a face.

"I know, right?" Stiles admitted. "It's pretty harsh and feels like you're drinking pure alcohol."

"Yes, that's it," Talia agreed.

Stiles dug a spoon out of the cabinet and used it to put a tiny dribble of water into each glass.

"Okay, now another sip," Stiles directed. 

Peter nodded at the taste but Talia made another face. "It's better, but still a bit harsh."

"Agreed," Stiles nodded. He used the tongs to drop an ice cube in each glass. "Swirl that around for a moment. Both to melt the ice a bit and to get the liquid cold. Then take another sip."

They both took a sip. Peter looked at the glass and then up at Stiles. "Huh."

Talia took her sip. "That is much better. I'm not sure I like it, but I certainly don't dislike it as much."

"The cold and added water smooths out the harshness of the drink," Stiles explained. "Anything in the distilled alcohol family will benefit from this treatment. Drinking most distilled alcohols 'neat' is for folk who have either no palate or an extremely refined palate."

"Which now gives some options when you're dealing with some of our competition," Peter pointed out to Talia. Stiles put a generous handful of ice in his glass and added more bourbon. He did the same for Peter.

"Would you like something different?" Stiles asked.

"There's a bottle of Australian Cabernet-Shiraz back there," Talia nodded. "I'll have some of that."

"It should breathe," Stiles said.

"I know, but I'll start with a partial glass for now," Talia said.

"Okay," Stiles nodded. He found a corkscrew and expertly opened the bottle. He poured some into a glass and handed it to Talia. "Your wine."

"Thank you," Talia said. 

"You have some interesting talents," Peter said.

"Hey, we've known each other for less than a week," Stiles pointed out. "I have lots of hidden talents!"

Peter took a sip of his drink. "You certainly do."

"Which brings us back to one of the reasons for our dinner tonight," Talia said. "Tell me about yourself."

"Come on," Stiles sighed. "You can't tell me you've not had me investigated so that you know more about me that my own father does?" 

Peter shrugged. "But that doesn't tell me a lot about _you_." He held up his glass of bourbon. "Like, how you know about bourbon."

"Wedding planner!" Stiles said, pointing a finger at Peter. "I need to know a lot about food and drink, entertainment, wedding protocols, religion, venues, permits, unions, clothing, and... I don't know... lots of things."

"What made you get into wedding planning?" Talia asked.

Before Stiles could answer, Derek and Braeden came into the room, followed by another couple Stiles did not know.

"Mom," Derek greeted Talia. Talia went over and hugged Derek, then Braeden. She hugged the other couple and brought them over to Stiles and Peter.

"Laura, Hugh, meet Stiles Stilinski, Peter's husband."

Laura looked puzzled. "Umm..."

"Oh, right," Stiles turned to Peter. "No one told her."

Peter shot him a small grin. "There was a small change of plans at the last minute. Stiles was able to step in and we got married."

"What happened to... what's her name?" Laura asked.

Peter shrugged. "Not important anymore. Stiles and I are now married." He said it firmly. Something that made Stiles feel pleased.

Laura looked at Stiles and Stiles looked blandly back at her. She turned to Peter. "He's a keeper."

Peter looked faintly smug. "I know."

Stiles looked between them. "What are you talking about?"

"Just that I know a good thing when I see it, sweetheart," Peter said smoothly.

"Aww. you say the nicest things," Stiles cooed. 

"You guys are too cute," Braeden teased.

Derek just frowned.

"Anyone want a drink?" Stiles offered.

"You don't have to..." Peter started.

Stiles waved a hand. "Not a big deal," he said. "Who else would do it?"

"We take turns, mostly," Derek offered. "Or we make our own."

"So this is my turn and someone else makes my drink next time," Stiles said cheerfully. "Ladies first. What can I get you?"

Peter stood next to the wall at the end of the wet-bar as Stiles prepared a relatively simple set of drinks for the newcomers. 

"So, back to my question," Talia said. "Why a wedding planner?"

"At one point, I was going to go into law enforcement," Stiles said. "My dad's a cop, a good one, and I hung around the station a lot as a kid. So I know it's not all fun and games." He took a sip of his drink. "Our senior year in high school, a friend of mine got killed in a random animal attack and I took it pretty hard. I put off going to college and worked whatever odd jobs I could get. I was working for a florist and, of course, they're involved in a bunch of weddings. Well, one of my douche-- umm, less popular classmates was supposed to be organizing this wedding and he just messed it up completely. The florist threw me at the bride with the doubtful endorsement of _he can't do any worse_ and I never looked back."

"Why New York City, since you're from California?" Braeden asked.

"Like the song says, if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere," Stiles grinned. 

Peter raised his glass at Stiles.

"What Peter and I haven't had a chance to talk about is that I'm accepted at NYU for the next semester," Stiles said. "I changed my major from Law Enforcement and I've been accepted in the new Business, Technology and Entrepreneurship program."

"I read about that!" Hugh put in. "They were only taking a few students this first term, weren't they?"

Stiles shrugged. "I did well in high school, I took some concurrent college courses, so I'm technically going in as a sophomore, and I have a small but going business. I think all that helped."

"Good to know, sweetheart," Peter said. "We'll work around your class schedule as we need to."

"It's not for a couple of months, figured we'd work around that when the time came," Stiles admitted.

"We will do that," Peter promised.

"And dinner is ready," Talia said. 

Stiles caught Talia looking at him speculatively a couple of times, but figured that was due to his marriage to Peter. Laura and Hugh warmed up nicely by the end of the evening. They weren't ready to be best friends, but there were no open hostilities, so Stiles counted that as a win.

"Come back soon," Talia invited as they were leaving. She glanced at Peter and smirked. "We don't see enough of Peter, so maybe you'll be a good influence on him."

"So that's the way it is," Stiles laughed. "In that case, I make no promises."

"Good night," Peter said firmly. Talia gave Peter a hug that he returned.

Back at the house, Peter said, "You did well tonight."

Stiles shrugged. "I can talk about anything for, like, forever if I need to. And I've learned how to hold a conversation with just about anyone."

"I think my family likes you more than they like me," Peter grinned.

"Wait until they get to know me," Stiles laughed. "I can be an annoying little shit."

"No matter, thank you for making it a good night."

"Dude! It's your family. Whether or not I stay, you're stuck with them forever. I wasn't going to be awful," Stiles protested. "I know enough about families that they'd hold it over you forever."

"Too true," Peter said. 

Stiles yawned. "Okay, I have a long day tomorrow," he said. "First meeting with the bride and whomever else she brings along. But I'm getting ambivalent feelings about this one. She's already re-scheduled once and now wants to meet in a semi-public place."

"If she doesn't know you, I would think that would be reasonable," Peter said.

"But most of my work is word-of-mouth referrals, so whomever sent her to me should know me," Stiles said. "But it'll be okay. We're meeting in a diner in the middle of the morning, so it should be fine. There are a couple of bakeries I use in the area, so we can walk or take a cab if we need."

"And you need to pay attention," Peter said. "There were some reporters at that dinner the other night and I know there were pictures taken. So you need to be careful yourself."

Stiles nodded. "Got it." He leaned in for a quick kiss. "Good night."

Peter looked pleased but didn't push for more. "Good night."

In the morning, Stiles ate breakfast with Coach and arranged for an Uber to take him to his meeting.

The car matched the description on his app, so he got in. "Morning!"

Theo turned around and smirked. "Good morning to you, too!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bwa-ha-ha-ha... evil author is evil!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thanks to everyone reading for your patience... yes, I'm still working on this and it finally has an ending in my head... so I'm thinking 2-3 more chapters.
> 
> Also, for Full Moon Ficlet # 415: Stars (Sorry to anyone not already reading along!)

Stiles reached for the car door handle, to find it had been removed. 

"Let me out of here!" Stiles demanded. There was a partition, like the ones found in cabs, between the two seats, so Stiles couldn't get at Theo.

Theo laughed and drove off. Stiles reached for his phone to find it wouldn't dial out. Damn! Theo must have a signal jammer in the car. Levering himself sideways, Stiles used his feet to hammer against the side window. Theo jerked the car to throw Stiles off but he couldn't do that too much or he'd draw the attention of the police. Stiles kept kicking at the window.

Yes! Theo pulled into a parking space on the side of the street. Then Stiles saw the muzzle of a gun and he froze. A small _thwip_ of... thank god a dart. Oh! 

Before he could reach to pull it out, blackness fell.

Blech! What was that awful taste in his mouth. Stiles smacked his lips and tried to work up some spit. Okay. This wasn't working, he needed some water. He started to roll out of bed and was brought up short... damn! He was tied to a bed in a darkened room. He had no idea where he was.

Fuck Theo. What the fuck did he want?

Stiles closed his eyes for a moment. He didn't need to fall into a panic attack. He breathed in and out, slowly and deliberately. He didn't think about whatever else was happening, he focused on his breathing. 

Footsteps. Stiles opened his eyes to see Theo standing in the doorway of the room. He could barely see Theo's face since he was silhouetted against the slightly brighter light in the hall. 

"Ha! Finally awake."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? Let me go and maybe you'll get out of this without getting hurt."

"No one knows where you are and no one will be able to find you," Theo smirked. 

"What do you want? Money? I can get that for you," Stiles offered. 

"As tempting as that is, I've already been paid," Theo replied. "I'm just enjoying myself while I wait for your buyer."

"Buyer? Who the fuck wants me?" Stiles demanded. 

Theo shrugged. "They should be here shortly. You can wait." He stepped into the room. "That doesn't mean I can't enjoy myself..."

Stiles shrank back. He looked around frantically but he was tied spread-eagle to the four corners of the bed on a bare mattress. He tugged on each limb -- there was little give to any of it. The only good thing was that he still had all his clothes on, even the coat he left the house in. Good thing the room was a little cool or he'd be sweating his ball off.

"You should see the look on your face," Theo mocked. "You're lucky I have to deliver you untouched."

Stiles couldn't help but give a sigh of relief.

"What? Relieved I can't touch you?" A snarl. "Fuck you!" 

"I still wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole," Stiles shot back. He could be braver now that he knew he wasn't in any immediate danger. 

Theo raised a hand and took a step forward.

Stiles didn't move. 

"Fuck you, Stilinski!" Theo snarled. He whirled and left the room.

Stiles gave another sigh of relief. And a bitter laugh. His dad had always warned him his mouth would get him in trouble.

There was nothing to see in the room. The walls were blank, there was no window, no closet, and no other furniture besides the bed. Although the double bed pretty much filled the room. What little he could see in the hall was also blank walls. He really couldn't tell exactly what color the wall might be but he would guess some flavor of beige.

It was also quiet. Surprisingly so. His apartment always had some background noise -- water flowing, people's voices, traffic. There was none of that. Now that he was paying attention, it was almost oppressive. He couldn't hear Theo who must be stomping around in frustration.

Who the fuck would want him? Especially using Theo. Stiles wracked his brain in frustration. The obvious connection was Peter but he couldn't see anyone using _Theo_ as a kidnapper. People who played at Peter Hale's level had better options than Theo. Which meant it was unlikely to be because he was married to Peter. 

Stuck on the bed, Stiles was immediately bored. He twisted around to try to see if he could loosen anything but there were steel manacles about each wrist and a medium duty metal chain leading off the side of the bed. The manacles weren't quite tight but there wasn't enough space to try to slip his hand through the metal ring. He could feel similar bands around his ankles. 

Theo wasn't stupid but this was more than he would have been able to do on his own. Theo had to be a minion for someone who knew enough about Stiles to guess that, as a cop's kid, he would know something about escaping capture. Stiles could pick handcuffs with the best of them, even behind his back. But this setup gave Stiles nothing to work with.

Stiles wasn't even sure what time of day it was. He had no idea how long he had been knocked out. Hmm... maybe not too long since he didn't need to piss desperately. Yet. Oh great. Now that he thought about it he wanted to use a bathroom. But it was probably still morning. Whatever good that information did him.

"Ah! Good. You have him under control," a male voice said.

Stiles blinked several times. With the cool air and the warm coat, he must have fallen asleep in the dark room. And, dammit, it was later in the day and he really needed to pee. 

"Let me out of here," Stiles demanded shaking his hands to jingle the chains.

"Now, now," the voice went on. "You won't be tied up for much longer." Stiles could see a shape in the doorway but he couldn't make out any features because of the darkness. It was even darker in the hall, helping to further disguise the man.

"Good!" Stiles said relieved. "Do it now!"

"Oh. You think you're getting out of there," the voice oozed concern. "Sorry."

"What the fuck?" Stiles demanded. "Let me out of here!"

"The stars are not quite in alignment for the ritual," the man said. "Just a little while longer."

"What the fuck?"

"Don't worry," the man said. "It won't hurt. Much."

The voice was too bland, too unemotional. It sent a shiver down Stiles' spine. "Please. Peter will pay whatever you want to let me go." Something made Stiles certain of that.

"Oh, I'm sure he would," the voice replied. "He's lucky I have more use for you than for him at the moment."

Stiles was puzzled. A _use_ for himself and Peter? 

"Please. I'm not that special," Stiles begged. "Let me go!"

"Oh, don't worry, Mr. Stilinski," the voice said as the man backed out of the room. "You're very special."

With that, he left.

Stiles was scared and confused. Theo was skeevy but pretty transparent. He wanted to fuck Stiles -- literally -- because no one would. Stiles had loudly proclaimed -- in front of half the residents of the floor who had come out of their apartments to see about the yelling -- _I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot-pole._ It didn't completely make Theo stop bothering Stiles, but he had not pressed as hard. Stiles also went out of his way to avoid Theo when he could.

This. This was completely different. This was someone who had a plan and intended to carry it out, whether Stiles wanted to cooperate or not. 

"Sorry, dad," Stiles whispered in the dark. "I don't know what's going on but if I get out of this, I'm coming home. I need you so much." Stiles knew he was crying, but he let the tears fall.

Stiles really needed to pee by the time the man came back to the room. 

"Are your stars in alignment?" Stiles snarked. 

"They are," the man agreed solemnly. "It is time."

Damn. That was not what Stiles wanted to hear.

The man moved about the room as if he could see clearly in the dark. What the heck? Stiles would at least be holding on to the walls to make sure he didn't trip over anything.

Now on the far side of the bed from the door, the man placed a couple of items on the bed. In the dark, Stiles couldn't see exactly how many or what they were. 

The man reached out and touched Stiles' legs, his chest, and then his arms. He couldn't see or feel what was going on because of his clothing. Then the man touched his forehead, then his cheeks. Yucch! It must be a liquid of some sort. It didn't smell of anything that Stiles could place, but he could feel the coolness of the liquid as it sat on his face. Stiles tried to turn his head to wipe it off, but he couldn't get all the way around. 

The man started chanting in another language. Stiles listened, confused. This made no sense at all. 

"Why are you doing this to me?" Stiles yelled. He writhed on the bed, trying to get the man to stop whatever he was doing.

A sudden loud noise from below him startled Stiles and the man stopped chanting. Now what?

"Perfect timing," the man commented. 

A dog... no! A wolf? How crazy was all of this going to get, Stiles wondered. A wolf appeared in the doorway.

"Perfect! A mated pair is best for this!" The man flicked a hand and a cloud of dust flew over Stiles. 

Suddenly, somehow, he _knew_ that dust was even more dangerous.

"NO-O-O-O-O!!!" Stiles screamed. 

The dust froze in place above him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, not sorry... I hoped something would be better than nothing at this point... although it is fun being the evil author at this point! ::grin::


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should make up after the cliffies on the last two chapters! ;-) Come on, it's a Harlequin! Happy endings are coming!

The unknown man cursed. 

The wolf in the doorway morphed itself into Peter Hale. A fully naked Peter Hale. "You can't have what's mine!" Peter growled.

What the fuck? Stiles stared. Then blinked. Subjectively, he knew Peter was hot. Damn! Oh. Wait. The dust above him fell on the bed. Blech! Some fell in his mouth and he instinctively pushed it out.

Peter leaped over the bed -- really, how did he do that? -- and grabbed the other man. Stiles could see one of Peter's hands around the unknown man's neck. 

There was pounding up the stairs and then a weird-looking Derek was standing in the door. When he saw Peter had everything under control, he morphed back to regular-looking Derek.

"Lights, please?" Peter asked calmly. Like he was barely inconvenienced by the darkness. He looked down. "Stiles, sweetheart. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just... annoyed," Stiles admitted.

Peter grinned.

Derek scrabbled about and must have found a switch in the hall, since the hall light went on. Stiles' eyes watered at the sudden glare.

"Mr. Deaton!" Stiles said. The wedding officiant? "What..."

"Yes, what is Deaton doing?" Peter asked silkily. "Derek, get Stiles loose."

Derek reached out to Stiles, then suddenly withdrew one hand as if it had been scalded.

"Mountain ash!" he exclaimed, shaking the dust from his hand.

"Rip the bed apart if you have to," Peter rolled his eyes.

"Got it!" Derek nodded. He took one of the chains in two hands and casually ripped the links apart. He got Stiles' arm and leg on the side of the bed nearest the door and the other leg, then stopped since Peter and Deaton were on the other side.

"He's not going anywhere," Peter nodded. "Go ahead."

Derek considered then took his coat off. "Sorry, need to do it this way." He put his coat over Stiles' head and then reached across the bed to take out the last chain. He took the coat back gingerly.

Stiles sat up and then rubbed his forehead. Oh, right, there was gunk there. 

"I don't care what's going on, I need a bathroom," Stiles announced.

Peter barked a laugh. "Derek, stay with him."

"Right," Derek said. He looked around. "Do you know where it is?"

Stiles held up a hand with a manacle still dangling from it. "Been a bit tied up to do any snooping around."

"Oh, sorry," Derek blushed. He started opening doors. "Here!" 

Stiles hurried to the bathroom and sighed in relief as he started to piss. When he was done, he flushed the toilet and the pipes groaned. He went to the sink and turned on the water. It gushed brown. 

"Okay, cleanup is going to wait," Stiles announced. There weren't any towels or anything so he just went back to the room where Peter was holding Deaton.

"Now what?" Stiles asked. 

"Derek, take him downstairs," Peter directed. 

"Peter!" Stiles protested. "You can't..."

"I can," Peter said firmly. "Now go." A deep breath. "Please."

The soft _please_ did it. Stiles turned and went down the stairs, Derek behind him.

Stiles looked around. "Where's Theo?"

"There wasn't anyone else here when I got here," Derek said. "Who's Theo?"

"Punk kid," Stiles said as he waved a hand. "We can deal with him later."

"Umm... can you take that coat off, maybe?" Derek asked. "It's got Mountain Ash all over it and I can work with the manacles around your wrists better without it."

Stiles looked down at the ash on his coat. "You allergic?"

Derek shrugged. "Something like that?" But it was as much of a question as anything. "Oh, wait. Be right back." Derek dashed off to what Stiles could see was a broken down front door. He waved at someone before coming back to Stiles.

Stiles dropped his coat on the floor, since there wasn't any furniture. Between the goop Deaton had painted on the coat and the dust, it was a wreck. "Better?"

"Much!" Derek nodded. He turned the manacles around to find a hinge and he squeezed it to make it pop. He did that for Stiles' other hand.

Just then Coach came bustling in. "You okay, Bilinski?"

"Uh, yeah," Stiles nodded. He wasn't surprised at anything at this point.

"Help him balance," Derek directed. He reached for one of Stiles' ankles. 

"Oh, right," Stiles said. He held the leg out and Coach came up and put his hands on Stiles' shoulders. The warm hands felt good in the cool room. Derek made quick work of the shackles around his ankles. 

"Now what?" Stiles asked. 

"Coach, Peter's going to need you upstairs," Derek said. "I'll take Stiles home."

"You good, kid?" Coach asked, concerned. 

Stiles nodded, suddenly overcome with emotion. 

"Stay with Derek," Coach said. "We'll be right behind you."

Stiles nodded again and Derek guided Stiles out to a waiting SUV. 

"Back to Peter's," Derek said to the driver. He saw Stiles shiver and added, "Turn up the heat, please." 

Warm air came blasting through the vents. 

Stiles leaned toward the vent, soaking up the warmth. "Didn't realize I was that cold," he said. 

"Well, you've now lost your coat and it may be shock setting in." Derek wrapped an arm about Stiles. 

Stiles didn't remember much about the ride back to Peter's home. The next he knew was that Derek was hustling him into the house and up the stairs, barely stopping to set the security. 

"Shower, as hot as you can stand," Derek directed. "I'll organize some food."

"Not sure I can eat," Stiles protested.

"Eggs and toast?" Derek asked. Then blushed. "It's about all I can do."

Stiles laughed. "Okay, for that, I'll try."

"You going to be okay by yourself?"

"Yeah."

"Call if you need anything. I'll be listening."

Stiles frowned. 

"Umm... I can hear really well?"

"Wut...."

"Peter will explain."

"Okay. I'm just... gonna take a shower."

"Come down when you're ready."

Stiles sat heavily on the bed for a moment. It was tempting to lay back and sleep but he really needed that shower. He kicked off his shoes and then stood up to take off his clothes. He tried to not touch the gunk on his pants, maybe someone would want to examine it, so he rolled them up with the gunk on the inside.

Before getting into the shower, he scrubbed the gunk off his face carefully, wanting to not get any of it in his eyes. The hot shower was exactly what he needed. Looking longingly at the bed, he went downstairs to the kitchen.

"You had to have something to do with this," Derek said. "Peter never had food in this kitchen."

Oh, man. That discussion with Coach was like _years_ ago. 

"Yeah," Stiles nodded. "I like to cook and there was nothing to eat."

"Sit," Derek nodded at the table. "It's just about ready."

Derek put a bowl of scrambled eggs, toasted English muffins, cut up apples, and orange juice on the table. He sat down across from Stiles and they ate in silence.

Stiles was finishing a second glass of orange juice when Peter and Coach came back. Peter was wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt, both of which looked worn and comfortable. Peter came into the house and Coach went back to his apartment above the garage.

"You all right?" Peter asked.

Stiles nodded. "Fine. I think."

"Let me get cleaned up and we can talk," Peter said.

Stiles shrugged. "Sure."

Derek cleaned up the table and gave Stiles a look when he tried to get up to help. 

"Okay, I'll be good," Stiles held up his hands. "You probably want to make more, Peter's going to be hungry."

"Good idea," Derek said. He got to work breaking eggs and got more muffins from the freezer.

"Give me the muffins, I can put butter on them. In fact, I'll eat another," Stiles directed. "Get some jelly out. What does Peter like?"

Derek opened the fridge. "There's some blueberry jam in here," he said.

"Good enough," Stiles held out a hand. "I suspect he can use the calories as much as I can."

Derek nodded and got busy. It was just about ready as Peter came back. Stiles thought he looked... _soft_ and _approachable_ with wet hair and bare feet.

"Food first," Stiles said. 

"Thank you," Peter said as he sat next to Stiles. He inhaled most of a dozen eggs and three muffins. "How did you know I like blueberry jam?"

Stiles grinned. "I didn't. I like it and Coach bought it and now you're eating it."

"Okay," Peter said as he drained a glass of orange juice.

"Now. What the fuck was all that?" Stiles demanded.

Derek winced. 

"Werewolves," Peter said casually. "Derek and I. Well, and most of the family."

Stiles sat back in his chair. Somehow, he didn't expect a direct answer.

He turned to Derek. "Can you turn into a wolf, too?"

Derek shook his head. "Not yet."

"Oh. Not _yet_?"

"I'm... not ready?" Derek hesitated.

"What was that face thing you did?" Stiles asked as he made a circle about his own face.

"It's called a beta-shift," Peter said. "Derek, if you would?"

Suddenly, Derek had fuzzy side-burns, pointed ears, and an odd looking nose.

"Where did his eyebrows go?" Stiles demanded.

Peter laughed as Derek changed back.

Stiles sighed and turned back to Peter. "What was going on? Why did Mr. Deaton have me kidnapped and what was he trying to do? And what was that business with the dust?"

"The _business with the dust_ is actually the answer to most of your questions," Peter said. "That was all you, manipulating the Mountain Ash and not letting me get trapped by it. Being able to manipulate Mountain Ash like you did is a very rare skill and usually can only be accomplished by a magic user, and usually only by a Spark."

"A what?"

"A Spark is a very rare kind of magic user," Peter explained. "It turns out that Deaton is a Druid, or rather an evil Druid known as a Darach. He was conducting a ritual to bind your powers to him, so he could do... well, whatever he wanted."

"I'm going to assume you've turned Deaton over to the proper authorities," Stiles said. He pointed to himself. "Cop's kid. What I don't know, I can't tell anyone."

"Good point," Peter nodded. 

"Coach?"

"Well, that's a funny thing." Peter took the last muffin half and bit into it. "Coach isn't a magic user but he's... something. I've kinda asked and he dances around it and we've pretty much agreed to not talk about it. You can try, but in the end it's not important. He's part of the Hale Pack and can be trusted."

"Hale Pack?"

"My sister Talia is our Alpha," Peter explained. "All of us are part of the Hale Pack. It's not terribly different from being part of a family."

"Huh. Like being in the Mob?"

Peter waggled a hand. "Some things apply. We don't talk about being 'wolves to anyone that doesn't know about 'wolves. We're cautious about who we bring into the family. There's an expectation that you don't talk about the supernatural to anyone not in the know."

"Supernatural? Hey! Are there dragons?"

Derek pointed at Peter. "See! You owe me."

"What?" Stiles looked between them.

"Derek made a bet that the first thing you'd ask about would be dragons," Peter admitted with a smile.

"What did you pick?"

"Elves, actually."

Stiles laughed. "Now what?"

"We need a full de-brief," Peter said. 

"Theo!" Derek said suddenly.

Peter frowned.

"Stiles said that someone named Theo was there at one point," Derek said.

Peter looked at Stiles. 

Stiles shrugged. "Punk kid who lived in my old building. Theo Rankin. He's the one who actually kidnapped me."

Peter held up a hand. "We need to de-brief. Can you do this now?"

"While it's fresh is better," Stiles admitted. 

"Let's move to the study, then," Peter said. "Derek, call Coach and have him here to listen in."

Stiles grabbed a glass of water and moved off to the study. He sat on the couch and, when Peter hesitated, he patted the space next to him. Peter gave a small smile and sat down. Stiles leaned into him and Peter put his arm around him.


End file.
